, 


UC-NRLF 


B    E    fiSM 


•ERKEIIT 

LIBRARY 

UNWWSCTY  0» 


MODERN  AGITATORS: 


^portraits 


OF 

« 


LIVING  AMERICAN  REFORMERS. 


BY  DAVID  W.  BAETLETT. 

AUTHOR  OF  "LIFE  OF  LADY  JAXB  GREY,"  "JOAN  OF  ABO,"  HO.  KKl 


YORK: 
C.    M.    SAXTON,    25    PARK    ROW 

1859. 


LOAN  STACK 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  one  thousand  eight  hundred 

and  fifty-four, 

BY  MILLER,  ORTON  &  MULLIGAN, 
la  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Northern  District  of  New  York. 


AUBURN: 

KILLER,     ORTON     A     MULLIGAN, 
6TEKBOTYPEB8  AXD  PRINTERS. 


INTRODUCTION. 


TO    THOMAS    BOX, 

OF    ENGLAND. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  : — Though  thousands  of  miles  of  angry 
ocean  lie  between  us,  I  shall  never  forget  you  nor  your  "  Pala 
tine  Cottage."  Its  quiet,  unobtrusive  beauty,  nestled  as  it  is 
among  trees,  and  flowers,  and  singing  birds,  I  have  never  seen 
surpassed.  To  me  it  is  doubly  dear  from  the  fact,  that  when 
I  was  but  a  boy,  (yet  with  a  heart  full  of  earnest  aspirations 
for  a  reformed  world,)  it  was  a  second  home  to  me.  That  sad, 
beautiful  summer  you  nor  I  shall  ever  forget,  nor  will  the  dear 
ones  of  the  "  cottage  "  who  watched  me  so  tenderly  when  my 
brow  burned  with  fever.  1  can  see  the  exquisite  sight  from 
your  windows  even  now,  as  I  saw  it  then,  and  the  fragrance 
of  the  flowers  has  crossed  the  Atlantic  with  me,  and  lingers 
round  my  heart  still.  So  do  the  evenings  rise  up  before  me 
when  you  gave  me  such  graphic  pictures  of  the  English  re 
formers.  It  was  new  and  intensely  interesting  to  me,  espe 
cially  as  I  was  deeply  sympathizing  with  several  important 
reforms. 

I  am  in  my  native  land  again ;  months,  years  have  passed 


:43 


iv  INTRODUCTION. 

away  since  I  said  farewell  to  you.  While  I  write,  my  windows 
open  out  upon  a  landscape  not  so  beautiful,  but  more  grand  than 
v-ours — upon  more  gorgeous  though  not  sweeter  flowers  than 
those  at  Palatine !  I  am  in  a  new  world,  where  we  have  our  own 
beauties  and  defects.  Here — God  knows  how  my  heart  aches 
to  say  it ! — here  we  need  reformers  as  well  as  you ;  here  the 
sorrowful  plaint  of  the  bondman,  and  the  wail  of  the  drunk 
ard's  wife  are  heard.  And  so  remembering  your  word-pic 
tures  of  English  agitators,  1  send  you  a  few  plain,  honest  por 
traitures  of  some  of  our  American  reformers  of  the  present 
time.  They  do  not  by  any  means  include  all  of  our  distin 
tinguished  reformers.  I  am  obliged  to  select,  and  have  very 
likely  sketched  some  persons  not  so  distinguished -as  others  I 
have  not  mentioned.  With  one  exception,  the  subjects  of  these 
pen-portraits  are  living  men.  Rogers  was  so  brilliant  a  man, 
was  such  an  original,  and  was  so  intimately  connected  with  our 
anti-slavery  agitators,  that  I  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to 
speak  of  him  in  this  volume.  I  have,  in  almost  every  instance, 
made  extracts  from  the  writings  of  the  persons  sketched,  know 
ing  that  often  wise  quotation  will  give  a  better  clue  to  char 
acter  than  pages  of  mere  description. 

Begging  that  you  will  excuse  the  errors  into  which  I  may 
have  unintentionally  fallen  in  this  book,  which  was  prepared  for 
the  people  of  this  country, 

1  am,  always  affectionately,  yours, 

DAVID  W.  BARTLETT. 


CONTENTS. 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER, 7 

LYMAN  BEECHER, »* 

E.  II.  CHAPIN,  ; 45 

FREDERICK  DOUGLASS, 55 

HARRIET  BEECHER  STOWE, 78 

ELIHU  BURRITT, 96 

WILLIAM  LLOYD  GARRISON, Ill 

JOHN  B.  GOUGH, 128 

CHARLES  G.  FINNEY, 151 

JOSHUA  R.  GIDDINGS, 170 

WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT, 1S3 

THEODORE  PARKER, 192 

ICHABOD  CODDING, 208 

N.  P.  ROGERS, 225 

JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITT1ER,    240 

HORACE  BUSHNELL,  D.  D 266 

WILLIAM  H.  SEWARD,    2S1 

JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL, 307 

HORACE  GREELEY 315 

THURLOW  WEED  BROWN,..                                                                         .  887 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER. 

HENRY  WARD  BEECHER  is  one  of  the  most  popular 
men  in  America,  and  at  the  same  time  he  is  one  of 
our  most  radical  reformers.  He  is  the  pulpit  re 
former — the  man  who  thunders  forth  the  most  un 
popular  truths,  every  Sunday,  from  his  pulpit,  to  an 
audience  consisting  not  of  independent  country  farm 
ers,  who  have  little  temptation  to  do  wrong,  or  young 
enthusiasts  without  prudence  or  position  in  society — 
but  of  sober,  staid  merchants,  and  their  sons  and 
daughters.  No  pulpit  orator  in  this  country  is  more 
fearless  in  his  utterance  of  truth  than  Mr.  Beecher ; 
yet  he  is  loved  and  admired  by  his  church  and  con 
gregation.  The  reason  is,  that  while  he  always  in 
sists  upon  being  independent,  he  is  at  the  same  time 
manly  and  honest.  His  denunciations  of  oppression 
and  oppressors  do  not  proceed  from  a  soured  mind, 
but  from  a  profound  sympathy  with  the  oppressed. 
It  is  at  once  evident  to  his  hearers  that  he  is  agoni 
zing  over  the  wrongs  of  the  poor;  and  in  that  frame 
of  mind,  with  his  great  heart,  it  is  impossible  for  him 
not  to  pour  forth  with  astonishing  power  his  convic 
tions  of  right — his  hot  censures  upon  those  who  de- 


8  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

libcrately  and  purposely  tread  the  poor  beneath  their 
feet.  To  gain  any  just  idea  of  Mr.  Beecher's  style  of 
eloquence  he  must  be  seen  in  the  pulpit.  The  mo 
ment  that  he  arises  to  commence  religious  service 
the  listener  is  struck  with  his  manly,  vigorous  ap 
pearance.  There  is  nothing  soft  or  bland  in  his  man 
ners  ;  he  reads  a  hymn,  or  a  chapter  from  the  bible, 
in  a  clear,  firm  tone  of  voice,  or  utters  a  prayer,  not 
as  if  he  were  studying  to  so  modulate  his  sentences 
as  to  create  an  effect,  but  as  if  he  were  really  wrest 
ling  with  his  Maker.  We  by  no  means  would  give 
the  idea  that  he  is  harsh,  coarse,  and  without  a 
proper  manner,  for  such  is  not  the  case.  We  have 
heard  him  pray  when  every  word  sounded  like  the 
moaning  sob  of  a  child  upon  the  heart  of  its  mother  ; 
so  too  we  have  heard  him  launch  his  electrical  elo 
quence  at  the  heads  of  notorious  sinners  in  the  most 
impassioned,  declamatory  manner.  But  we  were 
saying,  when  he  rises  in  the  pulpit  his  manliness 
strikes  first  upon  the  attention  of  the  stranger,  and 
next  his  eager,  almost  terrible  earnestness.  He 
scarcely  ever  writes  out  his  sermons,  but  comes  into 
the  pulpit  with  but  a  few  rough  notes  before  him. 
This  allows  him  a  command  over  his  audience  which 
he  could  not  hold  were  he  confined  to  written  ser 
mons.  He  seems  to  be  talking  directly  to  each  in 
dividual  hearer.  There  is  no  escape  ;  he  bends  over 
the  pulpit  and  looks  you  in  the  face ;  he  intends  that 


HENRY  WARD  BEECI1ER.  9 

you  shall  not  go  home  without  appropriating  a  por 
tion  of  the  discourse  to  yourself.  You  come  perhaps 
prejudiced  against  him.  You  have  heard  that  he  is 
harsh,  impudent,  and  an  unpleasant  orator  ;  but 
when  you  have  heard  his  opening  prayer,  you  feel 
inclined  to  give  a  candid  hearing  to  what  so  sincere, 
so  honest  a  man  can  say.  To  tell  the  truth,  your 
prejudices  have  half  melted  before  a  word  of  the  ser 
mon  is  uttered.  He  does  not  open  abruptly,  but  in 
a  clear,  straightforward  manner  lays  the  subject  be 
fore  his  congregation.  By  and  by  he  warms  up  with 
his  subject.  Is  it  upon  intemperance  or  slavery? 
"With  what  vigor  does  he  expose  the  wickedness  of 
the  rum-traffic,  or  the  traffic  in  human  flesh  !  How 
clearly  he  unfolds  the  law  of  God  !  How  plainly  ex 
hibits  the  loving  humanity  of  Christ !  He  draws  a 
picture  of  the  poor  hunted  fugitive ;  he  leads  you 
among  the  cotton  fields  of  the  fair,  sunny  south, 
where  the  breezes  are  scented  with  orange  blossoms  ; 
and  there  he  asks  you  to  listen  to  the  heart-broken 
sighs  of  some  miserable  slave  mother,  parted  from 
her  children.  His  voice  and  manner  are  not  vehe 
ment,  though  solemnly  in  earnest.  His  manly  tones 
are  modulated  by  feeling ;  there  is  a  slight  tremble 
in  his  words  ;  his  eyes  overrun  with  tears  !  You  are 
weeping  yourself,  for  your  sympathies  are  touched, 
lie  grows  more  impassioned — passes  from  the  slave 
to  the  master !  His  voice  changes  ;  his  manner 


10  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

grows  more  declamatory ;  his  tears  are  dried.  Yon 
leap  along  with  him,  and  as  he  smites  the  oppressor 
with  God's  truth,  you  have  no  thought  of  rebuking 
him  for  vehemence  ;  he  expresses  your  own  thoughts 
in  better  language  than  you  could  command.  But 
before  he  is  done  he  smites  you ;  he  charges  those 
before  him  with  indifference  to  this  giant  wrong ;  he 
tells  them  that  the  blood  of  the  oppressed  will  be 
found  on  their  skirts,  for  conniving  at  the  servitude 
of  three  millions  of  their  fellow-men. 

It  is  the  same  with  every  subject ;  he  is  fearless 
yet  tender,  vehement  yet  gentle.  He  preaches  few 
of  what  are  called  doctrinal  sermons,  but  he  dwells 
often  and  fully  upon  the  wonderful  love  of  God — 
upon  the  every  day  duties  of  men.  He  never 
preaches  upon  "the  exceeding  sinfulness  of  sin,"  but 
addresses  himself  to  sinners.  But  though  he  is  bold, 
he  rarely  offends  any  honest  inquirer  after  truth. 
Such  a  mind  likes  his  frankness — is  charmed  by  his 
boldness — is  moved  to  tears  by  his  pathos. 

There  are  some  who  charge  Mr.  Beecher  with  utter 
ing  irreverent,  witty  things  in  the  pulpit.  He  is  some 
times  almost  humorous  in  the  pulpit,  but  it  is  because 
he  cannot  help  it.  It  is  as  natural  for  him  to  speak 
his  thoughts  in  an  original  manner,  as  it  is  for  some 
clergymen  to  preach  stupidities.  Occasionally  a  sen 
tence  drops  from  his  lips  which  starts  the  smile  upon 
the  faces  of  his  audience.  He  intended  no  wit,  but 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER.  11 

the  odd  comparison,  or  the  sparkling  sentence  bursts 
forth  involuntarily.  To  set  down  and  snarl  over  this 
feature  of  his  pulpit  oratory,  when  there  are  others 
so  rare  and  attractive,  is  the  mark  of  a  small  intellect 
and  a  still  smaller  heart. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  contrasts  presented  in  Mr. 
Beecher's  sermons — they  are  in  the  man.  His  own 
character  is  full  of  contrasts — his  writings  are  the 
same.  No  man  has  a  more  refined  love  of  the  beau 
tiful.  We  cannot  resist  the  temptation  to  copy  one 
of  his  most  exquisite  sketches  of  a  country  scene,  and 
when  we  have  done  that  we  will  contrast  it  with  one 
of  his  vehement,  magnificent  outbursts  against  des 
potism  and  wrong.  The  article  which  we  quote  is 
entitled — 

TROUTING. 

Where  shall  we  go  1  Here  is  the  More  brook,  the  upper 
part  running  through  bushy  and  wet  meadows,  but  the  lower 
part  flowing  transparently  over  the  gravel,  through  the  grass 
and  pasture  grounds  near  the  edge  of  the  village,  where  it 
curves  and  ties  itself  into  bow  knots.  It  is  a  charming  brook 
in  which  to  catch  trout,  when  you  catch  them,  but  they  are 
mostly  caught. 

"  Well,  there  is  the  Caney  brook.  We  will  look  at  that. 
A  man  might  walk  through  the  meadows  and  not  suspect  its 
existence.  The  grass  meets  over  the  top  of  its  upper  section 
and  quite  hides  it;  and  below,  through  that  iron  tinctured 
marsh  land,  it  expands  only  a  little,  growing  open-hearted  by 


12  MODERN    AGITATOIJS. 

degrees,  across  a  narrow  field ;  and  then  it  runs  for  the  thick 
ets — and  he  who  takes  fish  among  those  alders  will  certainly 
earn  them.  Yet,  for  its  length,  it  is  not  a  bad  brook.  Tho, 
trout  are  not  numerous,  nor  large,  nor  especially  fine ;  but 
every  one  you  catch  renews  your  surprise  that  you  should 
catch  any  in  such  a  ribbon  of  a  brook.  Still  farther  north 
is  another  stream,  something  larger,  and  much  better  or  worse, 
according  to  your  luck.  It  is  easy  of  access,  and  quite  unpre 
tending.  There  is  a  bit  of  a  pond  some  twenty  feet  in  diame 
ter,  from  which  it  flows,  and  in  that  there  are  five  or  six  half- 
pound  trout,  who  seem  to  have  retired  from  active  life,  and 
given  themselves  to  meditation  in  its  liquid  convent.  They 
were  very  tempting,  but  quite  untemptable.  Standing  afar  off, 
we  selected  an  irresistible  fly,  and  with  a  long  line  we  sent  it 
pat  into  the  very  place.  It  fell  like  a  snow-flake.  No  trout 
should  have  hesitated  a  moment.  The  morsel  was  delicious. 
The  nimblest  of  them  should  have  flashed  through  the  water,  bro 
ken  the  surface,  and  with  a  graceful  but  decisive  curve  plunged 
downward,  carrying  the  insect  with  him.  Then  we  should  in  our 
turn,  very  cheerfully  have  lent  him  a  hand,  relieved  him  of  his 
prey,  and  admiring  his  beauty  but  pitying  his  untimely  fate, 
buried  him  in  the  basket.  But  he  wished  no  translation.  We 
cast  our  fly  again  and  again ;  we  drew  it  hither  and  thither ; 
we  made  it  skip  and  wriggle ;  we  let  it  fall  splash,  like  a  sur 
prised  miller ;  and  our  audience  calmly  beheld  our  feats. 

"  Next  we  tried  ground  bait,  and  sent  our  vermicular  hook 
down  to  their  very  sides.  With  judicious  gravity  they  parted, 
and  slowly  sailed  toward  the  root  of  an  old  tree  on  the  side 
of  the  pool.  Again  changing  place,  we  will  make  an  ambassa- 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER.  13 

dor  of  a  grasshopper.  Laying  down  our  rod,  we  prepare  to 
catch  the  grasshopper ;  that  is  in  itself  no  slight  feat.  The  first 
step  you  take  at  least  forty  bolt  out,  and  tumble  headlong 
into  the  grass ;  some  cling  to  the  stumps,  some  are  creeping 
under  the  leaves,  and  not  one  seems  to  be  in  reach.  You  step 
again ;  another  flight  takes  place,  and  you  eye  them  with  a 
fierce  penetration,  as  if  you  could  catch  some  one  with  your 
eye.  You  cannot,  though.  You  brush  the  ground  with  your 
foot  again — another  hundred  snap  out,  and  tumble  about  in 
every  direction.  At  length  you  see  a  very  nice  young  fellow 
climbing  a  steeple  stem.  You  take  a  good  aim  and  grab  him. 
You  catch  the  spire,  but  he  has  jumped  a  safe  rod.  Yonder  is 
another,  creeping  among  some  delicate  ferns.  With  broad 
palm  you  clutch  him,  and  all  the  neighboring  herbage  too. 
Stealthily  opening  your  little  finger,  you  see  his  leg  ;  the  next 
finger  reveals  more  of  him  ;  and  opening  the  next  you  are  just 
beginning  to  take  him  out  with  the  other  hand,  when  out  he 
bounds  and  leaves  you  to  renew  your  entomological  pursuits. 
Twice  you  snatch  handfuls  of  grass,  and  cautiously  open  your 
hand  to  find  that  you  have  only  grass.  It  is  very  vexatious. 
There  are  thousands  of  them  here  and  there,  climbing  and 
wriggling  on  that  blade,  leaping  off  from  that  stalk,  twisting 
and  kicking  on  that  vertical  spider's  web,  jumping  and  boun- 
cing  about  under  your  very  nose,  hitting  you  in  the  face,  creep 
ing  on  your  shoes,  and  yet  not  one  do  you  get.  If  any  tender 
hearted  person  ever  wondered  how  a  humane  man  could  bring 
himself  to  such  cruelty  as  to  impale  an  insect,  let  him  hunt  for 
a  grasshopper  in  a  hot  day  among  tall  grass,  and  when  at 
length  he  secures  one,  the  affixing  him  upon  the  hook  will  be 

14 


14  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

done  without  a  single  scruple,  as  a  mere  matter  of  penal  jus 
tice,  and  with  judicial  solemnity. 

"  Now  then,  the  trout  yonder.  We  swing  our  line  to  the 
air,  and  give  it  a  gentle  cast  toward  the  desired  spot,  and  a 
puff  of  south  wind  dexterously  lodges  it  in  the  branch  of  the  tree. 
You  plainly  see  it  strike,  and  whirl  over  and  over,  so  that  no 
gentle  pull  loosens  it ;  you  draw  it  a  jerk  up  and  a  pull  down ; 
you  give  a  series  of  nimble  twitches ;  you  coax  it  in  this  way 
and  solicit  it  in  that  way  in  vain.  Then  you  stop  and  look  a 
moment,  first  at  the  trout  and  then  at  your  line.  Was  there 
ever  anything  so  vexatious  ?  Would  it  be  wrong  to  get  an 
gry  ?  In  fact,  we  feel  very  much  like  it.  The  very  things 
you  wanted  to  catch,  the  grasshopper  and  the  trout,  you  could 
not ;  but  a  tree,  that  you  did  not  want,  you  have  caught  fast  at 
the  first  throw.  You  fear  that  the  trout  will  be  scared.  You 
cautiously  draw  nigh  and  peep  down.  Yes,  they  are  looking 
at  you,  and  laughing  as  sure  as  trout  ever  laughed.  They  un 
derstand  the  whole  thing.  With  a  very  decisive  jerk  you  snap 
your  line,  regain  the  remnant  of  it,  and  sit  down  to  repair  it, 
to  put  on  another  hook,  catch  another  grasshopper,  and  move 
on  down  stream  to  catch  a  trout. 

"Meantime  the  sun  is  wheeling  behind  the  mountain,  for 
you  are  just  at  the  eastern  ridge  of  Mount  Washington  (not 
of  the  White  Mountains,  but  in  Massachusetts  and  Connecti 
cut.)  Already  its  broad  shade  begins  to  fall  down  upon  the 
plain.  The  side  of  the  mountain  is  solemn  and  sad.  Its 
ridge  stands  sharp  against  a  fire-bright  horizon.  Here  and 
there  a  tree  has  escaped  the  ax  of  the  charcoalers,  and  shag 
gily  marks  the  sky.  Here  and  there  through  the  heavens  are 


HENRY  WARD  BEKCHEB.  15 

slowly  sailing  continents  of  magnificent  fleece  mountains — 
Alps  and  Andes  of  vapor.  They,  too,  have  their  broad  shad 
ows.  One  you  see  cast  upon  yonder  hill,  far  to  the  east,  while 
the  base  is  radiant  with  the  sun.  Another  cloud-shadow  is 
moving  with  stately  grandeur  along  the  valley  of  the  Housa- 
tonic,  and  if  you  rise  to  a  little  eminence  you  may  see  the 
brilliant  landscape  growing  dull  in  its  sudden  obscuration  on  its 
forward  line,  and  growing  suddenly  bright  upon  its  rear  trace. 
How  majestically  that  shadow  travels  up  those  steep  and  pre 
cipitous  mountain  sides!  how  it  sweeps  down  the  gorge  and 
valley  !  how  it  moves  along  the  plain  ! 

"  But  now  the  mountain  shadow  is  creeping  down  into  the 
meadow.  It  has  crossed  the  road  where  your  horse  stands 
hitched  to  the  paling  of  a  deserted  little  house.  You  forget 
your  errand.  You  select  a  dry,  tufty  knoll,  and  lying  down 
you  gaze  up  into  the  sky.  O.  those  depths !  Something  within 
you  reaches  out  and  yearns ;  you  have  a  vague  sense  of  infinity — 
of  vastness — of  the  littleness  of  human  life,  and  the  sweetness 
and  grandeur  of  divine  life  and  of  eternity.  You  people  the 
vast  ether.  You  stretch  away  through  it  and  find  that  Celes 
tial  City  beyond,  and  therein  dwell  O  how  many  that  are 
yours !  Tears  come  unbidden.  You  begin  to  long  for  release. 
You  pray.  Was  there  ever  a  better  closet]  Under  the  shadow 
of  the  mountain,  the  heavens  full  of  cloudy  cohorts,  of  armies 
of  horsemen  and  chariots,  your  soul  loosened  from  the  narrow 
judgments  of  human  life,  and  touched  with  a  full  sense  of  im 
mortality  and  the  liberty  of  a  spiritual  state.  An  hour  goes 
past.  How  full  has  it  been  of  feelings  struggling  to  be  thoughts, 
and  of  thoughts  deliquescing  into  feeling.  Twilight  is  coming, 


16  MODEKN    AGITATORS. 

you  have  miles  to  ride  home.  Not  a  trout  in  your  basket ! 
Never  mind,  you  have  fished  in  the  heavens,  and  taken  great 
store  of  prey.  Let  them  laugh  at  your  empty  basket.  Take 
their  raillery  good-naturedly ;  you  have  certainly  had  good 
luck. 

"  But  we  have  not  yet  gone  to  the  brook  for  which  we 
started.  That  must  be  for  another  tramp.  Perhaps  one's  ex 
perience  of  'fancy  tackle'  and  of  fly-fishing  might  not  be  with 
out  some  profit  in  moral  analogies  :  perhaps  a  mountain  stream 
and  good  luck  in  real  trout  may  afford  some  easy  side-thoughts 
not  altogether  unprofitable  for  a  summer  vacation.  At  any 
rate,  it  will  make  it  plain  that  often  the  best  part  of  trout  fish 
ing  is  not  the  fishing." 

And  now  the  same  poet's  hand  that  drew  the 
above — the  same  heart  which  appreciated  the  tender 
and  beautiful  in  nature — wrought  that  which  follows. 
And  why  not?  If  we  examine  closely  we  shall  find 
that  it  is  the  true  poet  who  thunders  loudest  if  needs 
be  against  tyrants ;  we  shall  see  that  the  gentlest  are 
after  all  the  strongest,  the  profoundest.  Who  is  gen 
tler  than  a  mother?  Whose  love  is  stronger  than 
hers?  Who  can  suffer  as  she  often  does  for  a  loved, 
mayhap  ruined,  child  ? 

The  article  from  which  we  make  extracts  is  one  in 
which  Mr.  Beecher  defends  his  right  in  the  pulpit  to 
speak  of  slavery.  He  had  been  attacked  by  the 
Journal  of  Commerce  for  carrying  abolitionism  into 
the  church,  and  he  thus  replies  : 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER.  17 

"  It  is  vain  to  tell  us  that  hundreds  of  thousands  of  slaves  are 
church  members  ;  does  that  save  women  from  the  lust  of  their 
owners  ?  does  it  save  their  children  from  being  sold  ?  does  it 
save  parents  from  separation  1  In  the  shameless  processions 
every  week  made  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Gulf,  are  to  be 
found  slaves  ordained  to  preach  the  gospel,  members  of  churches, 
baptized  children,  Sunday-school  scholars  carefully  catechized, 
full  of  gospel  texts,  fat  and  plump  for  market.  What  is  reli 
gion  worth  to  a  slave,  except  as  a  consolation  from  despair, 
when  the  hand  that  breaks  to  him  the  bread  of  communion  on 
Sunday  takes  the  price  of  his  blood  and  bones  on  Monday ; 
and  bids  him  God  speed  on  his  pilgrimage  from  old  Virginia 
tobacco  fields  to  the  cotton  plantations  of  Alabama  ? 

"  What  is  church  fellowship,  and  church  privilege,  and  church 
instruction  worth,  if  the  Recipient  is  still  as  much  a  beast,  just 
as  little  loved,  just  as  ruthlessly  desolated  of  his  family,  just  as 
coolly  sold,  as  if  he  were  without  God  and  without  hope  ? 
What  motive  is  there  to  the  slave  to  strive  for  Christian  graces, 
when,  if  they  make  him  a  real  man,  they  are  threshed  out  of 
him ;  or  if  they  make  him  a  more  obedient  and  faithful  man, 
raise  his  market  price,  and  only  make  him  a  more  merchanta 
ble  disciple  of  Christ  1  It  is  the  religious  phase  of  slave-life 
that  reveals  the  darkest  features  of  that  all-perverting  system. 

"  These  things  are  not  new ;  nor  out  of  the  reach  of  the 
Journal  of  Commerce  ;  yet  when  upon  this  state  of  facts  the 
Christianity  of  the  north,  too  long  unsensitive,  lifts  up  its  voice, 
the  Journal  of  Commerce  assails  it  as  if  it  were  a  monster  ra 
vening  for  its  prey !  Three  million  men,  against  natural  law, 
against  every  fundamental  principle  of  our  state  and  national 


18  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

government,  are,  by  law,  thrown  over  the  pale  of  the  race  and 
denied  to  be  men.  This  is  not  fit  for  the  pulpit  to  mention  ; 
it  is  allowed,  nevertheless,  to  preach  about  China  and  India ! 
Every  year  thousands  of  children  are  snatched  from  their  pa 
rents'  bosoms,  and  remorselessly  sold  every  whither.  The  pul 
pit  is  not  the  place  for  mentioning  such  things,  though  it  be  al 
lowed  to  snatch  children  from  the  Ganges,  and  to  mourn  over 
infanticide  in  Polynesia!  Every. year  husbands  and  wives  are 
torn  asunder,  Christian  or  no  Christian  ;  and  the  Journal  of 
Commerce  browbeats  that  pulpit  that  utters  a  word  about  such 
politics,  when  it  should  rather  be  busy  in  expostulating  with 
cannibals  in  Malaya,  or  snatching  devotees  from  under  the 
wheels  of  Juggernaut !  Every  year  thousands  of  women  are 
lashed  for  obstinate  virtue ;  and  tens  of  thousands  robbed  of 
what  they  have  never  been  taught  to  prize  ;  and  the  Journal 
of  Commerce  stands  poised  to  cast  its  javelin  at  that  meddle 
some  pulpit  that  dares  to  speak  of  such  boundless  licentious 
ness,  and  send  it  to  its  more  appropriate  work  of  evangelizing 
the  courtesans  of  Paris,  or  the  loose  virtue  of  Italy ;  and  it  as 
sures  us  that  multitudes  of  clergymen  are  thanking  it  for  such 
a  noble  stand.  Some  of  those  clergymen  we  know.  The  plat 
forms  of  our  benevolent  societies  resound  with  their  voices 
urging  Christianity  to  go  abroad  :  stimulating  the  church  not  to 
leave  a  corner  of  the  globe  unsearched,  nor  an  evil  unredressed. 
But  when  the  speech  ended,  they  steal  in  behind  the  Journal 
of  Commerce  to  give  it  thanks  for  its  noble  stand  against  the 
right  of  the  pulpit  to  say  a  word  about  home  heathen — about 
their  horrible  ignorance,  bottomless  licentiousness,  and  about 
the  mercenary  inhumanity  which  every  week  is  selling  their 


HENRY    WARD   BEECSER.  19 

own  Christian  brethren,  baptized  as  much  as  they,  often  preach 
ers  of  the  gospel  like  themselves,  eating  from  the  same  table 
of  the  Lord,  praying  to  the  same  Savior,  listening  to  snatches 
of  that  same  bible  (whose  letters  they  have  never  been  permit 
ted  to  learn)  out  of  which  these  reverend  endorsers  of  the 
Journal  of  Commerce  preach  ! 

"  It  requires  distance,  it  seems,  to  make  a  topic  right  for  the 
pulpit.  Send  it  to  Greenland,  or  to  Nootka  Sound,  and  you 
may  then  practice  at  the  far-away  target.  And  the  reason  of 
such  discrimination  seems  to  be,  that  preaching  against  foreign 
sins  does  not  hurt  the  feelings  nor  disturb  the  quiet  of  your 
congregation  ;  whereas,  if  the  identical  evils  at  home,  which  we 
deplore  upon  the  Indus,  or  along  the  Burampootra,  are  preached 
about,  the  Journal  says  that  it  will  risk  the  minister's  place 
and  bread  and  butter. 

"Our  laws  scarcely  recognize  a  crime  against  man  save  mur 
der  and  violence  akin  to  it,  that  is  not  legal  under  slave  laws. 
There  is  not  a  sensual  vice  wrhich  we  are  taught  to  abhor, 
which  slavery  doth  not  monstrously  engender.  There  is  not  a 
sin  which  religion  condemns,  that  is  not  garnered  and  sown, 
reaped  and  sown  again,  by  American  slavery.  Among  free 
men  the  road  of  honor  lies  away  from  animal  passion,  from 
sensation,  toward  conscience,  hope,  love,  and  spiritual  faith. 
But  slavery  sharply  turns  the  wretch  downward,  and  teaches 
and  compels  him  to  evolve  the  task  of  life  from  such  motives 
as  are  common  to  him  with  the  ox,  the  ass,  and  the  dog.  The 
slave's  pleasures  are  our  appetites.  His  motives  are,  almost 
of  necessity,  those  from  which  religion  most  earnestly  dehorts 
us.  To  our  children  labor  is  honorable,  because  it  is  God's 


20  MODERN"   AGITATORS. 

ordination  of  mercy ;  because  it  is  an  education ;  because  it  is 
the  road  alike  to  health  and  temperate  pleasure ;  because  it  is 
the  parent  of  wealth ;  because  by  it  the  cheerful  laborer  builds 
his  house,  rears  his  children,  gives  to  them  the  means  of  knowl 
edge.  By  labor  the  north  has  subdued  nature,  changed  a  par 
simonious  soil  to  fertility,  built  dwellings  for  almost  her  whole 
population,  raised  the  school-house,  established  the  church,  en 
circled  the  globe  with  her  ships,  and  made  her  books  and  her 
papers  to  be  as  blades  of  grass  and  as- leaves  of  summer  for 
number.  But  in  the  South,  as  if  unredeemed  from  the  primal 
curse,  labor,  a  badge  of  shame,  is  the  father  of  misery.  The 
slave  labors,  but  with  no  cheer — it  is  not  the  road  to  respecta 
bility — it  will  honor  him  with  no  citizen's  trust — it  brings  no 
bread  to  his  family — no  grain  to  his  garner — no  leisure  in  after 
days — no  books  or  papers  to  his  children.  It  opens  no  school- 
house  door,  builds  no  church,  rears  for  him  no  factory,  lays  no 
keel,  fills  no  bank,  earns  no  acres.  With  sweat,  and  toil,  and 
ignorance,  he  consumes  his  life  to  pour  the  earnings  into  chan 
nels  from  which  he  does  not  drink — into  hands  that  never  honor 
him,  but  perpetually  rob,  and  often  torment. 

"  This  vast  abomination,  which  seethes  and  smokes  in  our 
midst,  which  is  enervating  and  demoralizing  the  white  by  the 
oppression  of  the  black — in  which  adultery,  fornication  and  a 
concubinage  so  awful  exist,  that,  in  comparison  with  it  a  Turk 
ish  harem  is  a  cradle  of  virgin  purity — which  every  hour  does 
violence  to  nature,  to  the  sentiment  of  justice,  and  to  the  em 
bodiment  of  that  sentiment  into  national  law — a  system  which 
makes  a  home  impossible,  and  the  word  family  as  much  a  mis 
nomer  as  it  would  be  to  a  stable  or  a  sheep-fold — which  sub- 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER.  21 

sists  only  by  keeping  the  subject  ignorant — which  is  obliged  to 
rank  and  treat  the  qualities  which  our  community  most  es 
teems — independence,  ambition,  self-reliance,  thirst  for  knowl 
edge,  self-respect,  as  most  punishable  crimes  in  the  slave — a 
system  whose  practice  requires  what  its  laws  recognize,  that 
man  must  be  subverted — that  the  slave  must  be  intelligent 
only  for  work,  and  religious  only  to  the  extent  of  obedience — 
a  system  which,  taking  away  all  inducements  to  labor  natural 
to  man,  is  obliged  to  enforce  it  by  suffering,  or  the  fear  of  suf 
fering  ;  which,  denying  to  the  faculties  of  the  soul  a  natural 
expression,  forces  the  miserable  wretch  to  cunning  and  craft,  to 
lying  and  subterfuge — whose  whole  natural  tendency  it  is  to 
produce  labor  upon  compulsion  and  laziness  by  choice,  lying 
and  thieving  under  a  sense  of  justice,  and  truth  and  honesty  with 
a  feeling  of  their  injustice — and  which,  at  length,  as  its  worst  and 
most  damnable  result,  so  subverts  that  instinct  of  liberty  which 
belongs  to  man  the  world  over,  that  the  slave  agrees  to  his 
condition,  grows  fat,  and  laughs  and  sings,  preferring  slavery, 
•with  indulgence  to  eat  and  drink  enough,  to  liberty,  if  he  must 
pay  the  price  of  that  liberty  by  sustained  exertion  ; — this  huge, 
infernal  system  for  the  destruction  of  men,  soul  and  body,  must 
not  be  mentioned  in  the  pulpit,  lest  the  Sabbath  be  desecrated 
and  the  peace  of  the  congregation  be  disturbed. 

"  We  now  re-affirm  our  doctrine  of  the  pulpit. 

"The  gospel  is  a  system  of  truths  designed  to  be  this  world's 
medicine.  It  has  no  intrinsic  value  as  a  system.  Its  end  and 
value  are  in  its  power  to  stimulate  the  soul,  to  develop  its  fac 
ulties,  to  purify  its  emotions,  to  cleanse  its  evils,  and  to  lead 
forth  the  whole  man  into  a  virtuous  and  holy  life. 


22  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

"The  pulpit  is  therefore  the  dispensatory  of  society.  The 
minister,  a  physician.  Preaching,  a  prescription  of  medicinal 
truth  for  heart  evils.  There  is  not  an  evil  which  afflicts  life, 
nor  a  temptation  proceeding  from  any  course  of  life,  which  the 
pulpit  should  not  study.  The  sources  of  right  conduct,  the 
hindrances,  the  seductions  of  business,  the  lures  of  pleasure, 
the  influences  of  public  life,  the  maxims  of  society,  its  customs, 
its  domestic,  commercial  and  public  institutions;  in  short, 
whatever  directly  or  indirectly  moulds  the  human  character,  is 
to  be  studied  by  the  minister,  and  its  benefit  or  its  danger  made 
known  from  the  pulpit. 

"  In  this  work  it  is  to  deal  first  and  most  faithfully  with  the 
evils  of  its  own  age,  its  own  country,  its  own  city,  its  own 
congregation.  Wherever  men  go,  the  pulpit  is  to  follow  them 
with  its  true  light.  Whatever  invades  its  province — that  prov 
ince  is  Right,  Humanity,  Purity — be  it  Fashion,  Commerce, 
Politics,  they  are  fearlessly  to  be  met,  grasped  and  measured 
by  the  word  of  God.  Not  only  may  the  pulpit  thus  explore 
Life,  but  it  must,  or  else  prove  bankrupt  to  Fidelity.  It  is  not 
to  follow  the  camp  ;  but  in  spiritual  things  to  lead  the  people. 
It  is  not  to  wait  till  foes  are  slain  before  it  raise  its  spear ;  nor 
go  asking  of  political  cabals  what  it  may  say,  nor  cringe  to  su 
percilious  men  of  commerce ;  but  occupy  itself  with  only  this 
twin  thought,  how  best  to  please  God  and  benefit  man. 

"  Therefore,  against  every  line  of  the  Coward's  Ethics  of  the 
Journal  of  Commerce  we  solemnly  protest,  and  declare  a  min 
ister  made  to  its  pattern  fitter  to  be  sent  to  the  pyramids  and 
tombs  of  Egypt,  to  preach  to  old-world  mummies,  than  to  be 
a  living  man  of  God  among  living  men,  loving  them  but  never 


HENRY    WARD    BEECHER.  23 

fearing  them  !  God  be  thanked  !  that  in  every  age  hitherto, 
such  pulpits  have  been  found  the  ally  of  suffering  virtue,  the 
champion  of  the  oppressed.  And  if  in  this  day,  after  the  no 
table  examples  of  heroic  men  in  heroic  ages,  when  life  itself 
often  paid  for  fidelity,  the  pulpit  is  to  be  mined  and  sapped  by 
insincere  friends  and  insidious  enemies,  and  learn  to  mix  the 
sordid  prudence  of  business  with  the  sonorous  and  thrice  he 
roic  counsels  of  Christ,  then,  O  my  soul,  be  not  thou  found 
conspiring  with  this  league  of  iniquity  !  that  so,  when  in  that 
august  day  of  retribution,  God  shall  deal  punishment  in  flaming 
measure  to  all  hireling  and  coward  ministers,  thou  shalt  not 
go  down,  under  double-bolted  thunders,  lower  than  miscreant 
Sodom,  or  thrice-polluted  Gomorrah !  " 

Here  is  one  more  sketch  in  Mr.  Beecher's  best  hu 
morous  vein,  which  we  cannot  forbear  to  quote  : 

BOOK-AUCTIONS,  BOOK-STORES,  BOOKS. 

We  have  examined  the  catalogue  of  books  to  be  sold  in  ten 
days,  beginning  May  24th,  by  Bangs,  Brothers  &  Co.  We  have 
also  examined  the  books  themselves,  and  with  sore  temptation. 
This  is  no  ordinary  sale.  It  is  not  the  refuse  stock  of  a  bank 
rupt  bookseller  ;  nor  a  private  library,  drugged  by  large  infu 
sions  of  unsaleable  books ;  nor  a  trade  sale  of  staple  books. 
It  is  a  literary  curiosity  of  itself.  The  catalogue  is  a  book  of 
no  mean  literary  interest.  Mr.  Welford,  long  familiar  with 
rare  and  curious  books,  spends  many  months  in  England,  col 
lecting  with  good  taste,  not  merely  standard  editions  of  stand 
ard  works,  but  literary  treasures  of  every  soil.  Here  are 


24  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

works  which  a  man  would  not  have  an  opportunity  of  purchasing 
once  in  his  lifetime,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  affairs.  The 
books  are  in  excellent  condition,  and  in  fine  bindings. 

Nothing  marks  the  growth  of  the  public  mind,  and  the  in 
creasing  wealth  of  our  times,  more  than  the  demand  for  books. 
Within  ten  years  the  sale  of  common  books  has  increased 
probably  two  hundred  per  cent.,  and  is  daily  increasing.  But 
the  sale  of  expensive  works,  and  library  editions  in  costly  bind 
ing,  is  yet  more  noticeable.  Ten  years  ago,  and  such  a  display 
of  magnificent  works  as  is  to  be  found  at  the  Appletons'  would 
have  been  a  precursor  of  bankruptcy.  There  was  no  demand 
for  them.  A  few  dozen,  in  one  little  show-case,  was  the  pru 
dent  whole.  Now,  one  whole  side  of  an  immense  store  is  not 
only  filled  with  most  admirably  bound  library -books,  but  from 
some  inexhaustible  source  the  void  continually  made  in  the 
shelves  is  at  once  re-filled.  A  reserve  of  heroic  books  supply 
the  places  of  those  that  fall.  Alas !  Where  is  human  nature 
so  weak  as  in  a  book- store  !  Speak  of  the  appetite  for  drink ; 
or  a  bonvivanfs  relish  for  dinner!  What  are  these  mere  ani 
mal  throes  and  ragings,  to  be  compared  with  those  fantasies  of 
taste,  of  imagination,  of  intellect,  which  bewilder  a  student,  in 
a  great  bookseller's  temptation- hall  1 

How  easily  one  may  distinguish  a  genuine  lover  of  books 
from  the  worldly  man !  With  what  subdued  and  yet  glowing 
enthusiasm  does  he  gaze  upon  the  costly  front  of  a  thousand 
embattled  volumes !  How  gently  he  draws  down  the  vol 
umes,  as  if  they  were  little  children;  how  tenderly  he  handles 
them!  He  peers  at  the  title-page,  at  the  text,  or  the  notes, 
with  the  nicety  of  a  bird  examining  a  flower.  He  studies  the 


HENRY    WARD    BEECIIKR.  25 

binding  :  the  leather, — Russia,  English  calf,  morocco  ;  the  let 
tering,  the  gilding,  the  edging,  the  hinge  of  the  cover !  He 
opens  it,  and  shuts  it,  he  holds  it  off,  and  brings  it  nigh.  It 
suffuses  his  whole  body  with  book  magnetism.  He  walks  up 
and  down,  in  a  maze,  at  the  mysterious  allotments  of  Provi 
dence  that  gives  so  much  money  to  men  that  spend  it  upon 
their  appetites,  and  so  little  to  men  that  would  spend  it  in  be 
nevolence,  or  upon  their  refined  tastes !  It  is  astonishing,  too, 
how  one's  necessities  multiply  in  the  presence  of  the  supply. 
.One  never  knows  how  many  things  it  is  impossible  to  do  with 
out,  till  he  goes  to  Windle's  or  Smith's  house-furnishing  stores. 
One  is  surprised  to  perceive,  at  some  bazaar,  or  fancy  and  va 
riety  store,  how  many  conveniences  he  needs.  He  is  satisfied 
that  his  life  must  have  been  utterly  inconvenient  aforetime. 
And  thus,  too,  one  is  inwardly  convicted  at  Appletons,  of  hav 
ing  lived  for  years  without  books,  which  he  is  now  satisfied  one 
cannot  live  without ! 

Then,  too,  the  subtle  process  by  which  the  man  satisfies  him 
self  that  he  can  afford  to  buy.  Talk  of  Wall  street  and  finan 
ciering  !  No  subtle  manager  or  broker  ever  Saw  through  a 
maze  of  financial  embarrassments  half  so  quick  as  a  poor  book- 
buyer  sees  his  way  clear  to  pay  for  what  he  must  have.  Why, 
he  will  economize ;  he  will  dispense  with  this  and  that ;  he 
will  retrench  here  and  there ;  he  will  save  by  various  expedi 
ents  hitherto  untried ;  he  will  put  spurs  on  both  heels  of  his 
industry  ;  and  then,  besides  all  this,  he  will  somehow  get  along 
when  the  time  for  payment  comes!  Ah!  this  SOMEHOW! 
That  word  is  as  big  as  a  whole  world,  and  is  stuffed  with  all 
the  vagaries  and  fantasies  that  fancy  ever  bred  on  hope.  And 


26  MODEKN    AGITATORS. 

yet,  is  there  not  some  comfort  in  buying  books,  to  be  paid  for  1 
We  have  heard  of  a  sot,  who  wUicd  his  neck  as  long  as  the 
worm  of  a  still,  that  the  draught  might  taste  good  so  much  lon 
ger.  Thus,  it  is  a  prolonged  excitement  of  purchase,  if  you 
feel  for  six  months  in  a  slight  doubt  whether  the  book  is  hon 
estly  your  own  or  not.  Had  you  paid  down,  that  would  have 
been  the  end  of  it.  There  would  have  been  no  affectionate  and 
beseeching  look  of  your  books  at  you,  every  time  you  saw 
them,  saying,  as  plain  as  a  book's  eyes  can  say,  "  Do  not  let 
me  be  taken  from  you." 

Moreover,  buying  books  before  you  can  pay  for  them,  pro 
motes  caution.  You  dont  feel  quite  at  liberty  to  take  them 
home.  You  are  married.  Your  wife  keeps  an  account-book. 
She  knows  to  a  penny  what  you  can  and  what  you  cannot  af 
ford.  She  has  no  "  speculation  "  in  her  eyes.  Plain  figures 
make  desperate  work  with  airy  "  somehows."  It  is  a  matter 
of  no  small  skill  and  and  experience  to  get  your  books  home, 
and  in  their  places  undiscovered.  Perhaps  the  blundering  ex 
press  brings  them  to  the  door  just  at  evening.  "What  is  it, 
my  dear  1 "  she  says  to  you.  "  Oh  !  nothing — a  few  books 
that  I  cannot  do  without."  That  smile  !  A  true  housewife, 
that  loves  her  husband,  can  smile  a  whole  arithmetic  at  him  at 
one  look !  Of  course  she  insists,  in  the  kindest  way,  in  sym 
pathizing  with  you  in  your  literary  acquisition.  She  cuts  the 
strings  of  the  bundle,  (and  of  your  heart,)  and  out  comes  the 
whole  story.  You  have  bought  a  whole  set  of  costly  English 
books,  full  bound  in  calf,  extra  gilt,  and  admirably  lettered. 

Now,  this  must  not  happen  frequently.  The  books  must  be 
smuggled  home.  Let  them  be  sent  to  some  near  place.  Then 


HENRY    WARD    BEECHER.  27 

when  your  wife  has  a  headache,  or  is  out  making  a  call,  or  has 
lain  down,  run  the  books  across  the  frontier  and  threshold,  has 
tily  undo  them,  stop  only  for  one  loving  glance  as  you  put 
them  away  in  the  closet,  or  behind  other  books  on  the  shelf, 
or  on  the  topmost  shelf.  Clear  away  the  twine  and  wrapping- 
paper,  and  every  suspicious  circumstance.  Be  very  careful 
not  to  be  too  kind.  That  often  brings  on  detection.  Only  the 
other  day,  we  heard  it  said  somewhere,  "  Why,  how  good  you 
have  been  lately.  I  am  really  afraid  you  have  been  carrying 
on  mischief  secretly."  Our  heart  smote  us.  It  was  a  fact. 
That  very  day  we  had  bought  a  few  books  which  "  we  could 
not  do  without."  After  a  while  you  can  bring  out  one  vol 
ume,  accidentally,  and  leave  it  on  the  table.  "  Why,  my  dear, 
what  a  beautiful  book !  Where  did  you  borrow  it  ?  "  You 
glance  over  the  newspaper,  with  the  quietest  tone  you  can 
command  :  "  That !  oh  !  that  is  mine.  Have  you  not  seen  it 
before?  It  has  been  in  the  house  this  two  months;"  and  you 
rush  on  with  anecdote  and  incident,  and  point  out  the  binding, 
and  that  peculiar  trick  of  gilding,  and  everything  else  you  can 
think  of;  but  it  all  will  not  do;  you  cannot  rub  out  that  ro 
guish  arithmetical  smile.  People  may  talk  about  the  equality 
of  the  sexes  !  They  are  not  equal.  The  silent  smile  of  a  sen 
sible,  loving  woman,  will  vanquish  ten  men.  Of  course  you 
repent,  and  in  time  form  a  habit  of  repenting. 

But  we  must  not  forget  our  errand,  which  was,  to  say  that 
lovers  of  books  who  desire  rare  and  curious  works,  should  at 
tend  the  sale  of  Mr.  Welford's  books ;  and  they  should  re 
member  with  gratitude  that  he  has  removed  all  temptation 
from  them  to  buy  more  than  they  have  the  money  to  pay  for, 
by  making  the  terms  cash. 


28  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

Of  Mr.  Beecher's  personal  history  we  have  not 
much  to  say.  He  was  born  in  Litchfield,  Connecti 
cut,  was  educated  at  Amherst  college,  Massachusetts, 
and  spent  a  number  of  years  in  the  west  before  ac 
cepting  a  call  to  preach  in  Brooklyn,  where  he  is  at 
the  present  time.  When  a  boy,  he  was  full  of  the 
Beecher  spirit  and  independence.  We  have  heard  a 
friend  of  the  family  tell  a  story  of  young  Henry, 
which  illustrates  not  only  the  lad's  full  flow  of  ani 
mal  spirits,  but  the  subtle  knowledge  of  human  na 
ture  possessed  by  his  father.  For  some  cause  or  other, 
while  pursuing  his  studies,  Henry  one  day  informed 
his  parents  that  he  was  going  to  sea.  If  he  could  not 
obtain  the  consent  of  his  parents,  he  gave  them  very 
distinctly  to  understand  that  he  could  run  away — at 
any  rate,  he  was  not  going  to  endure  any  opposition. 
To  the  boy's  profound  surprise,  his  father  made  no 
objection  to  his  resolution,  but  the  next  day  coolly 
informed  him,  that  a  tailor  should  fit  him  out  with  a 
suit  of  sea-clothes,  and  that  he  had  written  to  a  mar 
itime  friend  to  make  arrangements  for  his  reception 
on  board  his  ship.  He  wound  up  by  saying,  that 
he  had  indulged  the  thought  that  he  (Henry)  would 
go  on  successfully  in  his  studies  until  prepared  to 
enter  college,  and  that  he  would  hereafter  live  a  life 
of  honor  and  usefulness ;  but  that  he  had  decided 
without  advice  to  adopt  a  sailor's  profession,  and  he 
should  not  be  opposed.  The  more  the  boy-student 


HENRY    WARD    BEECH ER.  29 

thought  of  the  matter,  the  more  he  felt.  To  tell  the 
truth,  he  threatened  to  go  to  sea  more  to  rouse  the 
opposition  of  his  father,  than  for  any  other  purpose  ; 
and  now,  to  be  actually  helped  off — it  was  altogether 
too  had  ;  and  he  one  morning,  with  a  burst  of  peni 
tent  tears,  confessed  that  he  would  like  to  go  on  with 
his  preparation  for  college  ! 

At  an  early  age  Mr.  Beecher  was  admitted  into 
the  ministry.  He  was  overflowing  with  an  enthusi 
astic  desire  to  preach  the  truth  to  the  people.  He 
was  willing  to  go  anywhere  to  do  this,  and  was  ready 
to  undergo  any  suffering  or  privations  if  only  he 
could  preach  Christ.  He  went  to  the  west,  and  car 
ried  light  and  peace  to  the  lonely  cabins  of  the  far 
mers,  and  to  the  rough  homes  of  the  artisans.  For 
years  he  lived  among  the  grand  prairies,  and  he  left 
his  impress  there  in  many  a  home  and  heart.  But  a 
man  of  such  powers  of  mind  could  not  be  allowed 
to  waste  himself  in  any  humble  place.  Just  such  a 
man  was  needed  in  Xew  York  to  speak  the  truth 
into  the  ears  of  the  merchants  and  lawyers  of  our 
empire  city.  More  than  this :  in  New  York  (or  rather 
Brooklyn)  a  man  of  his  talents  would  be  sure  of  at 
tracting  transient  residents  from  all  parts  of  the 
Union,  and  thus  he  would  be  felt  all  over  the  country. 
Such  is  the  case.  Scarce  a  merchant  goes  to  New 
York  to  buy  goods,  whether  from  Maine,  Wisconsin, 


30  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

or  Ohio,  who  leaves  the  city  without  hearing  Henry 
Ward  Beecher  preach. 

Socially,  Mr.  Beecher  is  one  of  the  most  interest 
ing  men  we  ever  met.  He  is  brim  full  of  anecdote 
and  humour.  jSTo  man  can  tell  a  story  better  than 
he — no  man  can  set  a  circle  into  a  roar  quicker  than 
he,  nor  is  he  surpassed  in  all  that  is  affectionate  and 
lovely.  He  has  a  big  heart,  which  takes  in  all  his 
friends.  He  is  half  worshipped  in  his  family,  and  no 
one  wonders  at  it  who  knows  him. 

In  his  person  Mr.  Beecher  is  not  very  remarkable. 
He  is  of  medium  height,  has  a  firm,  independent  air, 
look,  and  gait,  has  dark  hair,  an  intelligent  eye,  and 
a  hearty  voice.  He  dresses  well — not  finely.  He  is 
the  exact  opposite  of  a  modern  fop  in  dress  and  man 
ners,  for  in  everything  he  is  'manly. 

Mr.  Fowler,  the  phrenologist,  speaking  of  the 
main  points  in  his  character  says  : 

"  The  first  is  the  soundness  and  vigor  of  his  physical  consti 
tution.  Every  bodily  organ  is  strong,  and  exceedingly  active ; 
his  vital  organs  are  large,  and  peculiarly  healthy.  Only  his 
stomach  is  in  the  least  degree  affected,  and  that  only  partially 
and  occasionally.  His  lungs  are  very  large  and  very  fine  ;  he 
measures  under  the  arms  more  than  one  in  thousands,  and  his 
muscles  are  uncommonly  dense,  sprightly  and  vigorous.  All 
his  motions  are  quick  and  elastic,  yet  peculiarly  firm  and  strong, 
tossing  his  body  about  as  if  it  were  as  light  as  a  footrball — a 


HENRY   WARD    BEECHER.  31 

condition  always  characteristic  of  distinguished  men ;  for  no 
man  can  be  talented  without  a  first-rate  muscular  system.  He 
fosters  this  .condition  by  taking  a  great  amount  of  physical  ex 
ercise,  and  also  of  rest  and  recreation.  When  he  does  work, 
he  works  with  his  whole  might,  until  his  energies  are  nearly 
expended,  and  then  gives  up  to  sleep,  relaxation,  and  cheerful 
conversation,  perhaps  for  days  together,  until  having  again 
filled  up  the  reservoir  of  life-power,  he  becomes  capable  of  put 
ting  forth  another  vigorous  effort. 

********* 

"The  second  cardinal  point  in  his  character,  is  the  unwonted 
size  of  his  benevolence.  In  all  my  examinations  of  heads,  1 
have  rarely,  if  ever,  found  it  surpassed,  or  even  equaled.  It 
towers  above  every  other  organ  in  his  head,  and  is  the  great 
phrenological  center  of  his  brain.  While  most  heads  rise 
higher  at  firmness  than  at  benevolence,  his  rises  higher  at  be 
nevolence.  It  is  really  enormous,  and  forms  altogether  the 
dominant  motive  of  his  life ;  and  this  constitutes  the  second 

grand  instrumentality  of  his  success. 

********* 

"  His  social  affections  are  also  large,  and  working  in  con 
junction  with  his  supreme  benevolence,  mutually  aid  and 
strengthen  it.  Adhesiveness  is  very  large.  I  rarely  find  it  as 
large  in  men.  Hence  he  makes  friends  of  all,  even  those  who 
oppose  him  in  doctrine,  and  is  personally  attached  to  them ; 
and  this  explains  one  of  the  instrumentalities  by  which  he  so 
powerfully  wins  all  within  range  of  his  influence.  They  love 
the  man,  and  therefore  receive  his  doctrines.  His  philopro- 
genitiveness  is  also  large  ;  and  hence  his  strong  and  almost  pa- 


Sir  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

ternal  interest  in  the  success  of  young  men  just  starting  in  life; 
for  this  faculty,  rightly  directed,  especially  in  public  men,  ex 
tends  a  helping  hand  not  to  physical  children  merely,  but  to 
those  who  are  just  starting  in  life,  whatever  may  be  their  oc 
cupation;  and  he  also  preaches  most  effectually  upon  the  edu 
cation  of  children. 

"  His  amativeness  is  fully  developed,  yet  conjoined  with  his 
fine-grained  temperament  and  exalted  moral  affections,  it  val 
ues  woman  mainly  for  her  moral  purity,  and  her  maternal  and 
other  virtues,  and  seeks  the  elevation  of  the  sex.  Probably 
few  men  living  place  the  family  relations  of  parents  and  chil 
dren,  husbands  and  wives,  upon  higher  grounds,  either  practi 
cally  in  his  family,  or  in  his  public  capacity,  than  Henry 
Ward  Beecher.  He  is  perfectly  happy  in  his  family,  and  his 
family  in  him ;  and  this  is  one  cause  of  his  peculiarly  bland, 
persuasive,  and  winning  address. 

"  His  third  point  of  character  is  his  force.  This  is  conse 
quent  on  his  large  combativeness  and  firmness,  and  his  enthu 
siastic  temperament.  What  he  does,  he  does  with  all  his 
might.  He  takes  hold  of  great  things  as  though  they  could 
and  must  be  done.  Every  sentence  is  uttered  with  an  energy 
which  carries  it  home  to  the  innermost  souls  of  all  who  hear ; 
yet  his  combativeness  is  never  expended  in  personal  defense, 
or  in  opposing  his  enemies,  but  simply  in  pushing  forward  his 
benevolent  operations. 

"  His  destructiveness  is  fair,  but  always  subordinate. 

"Acquisitiveness  is  almost  entirely  wanting.  I  rarely  find 
it  as  small,  and,  unlike  too  many  reverends,  he  never  thinks 


HENRY    WARD    BEEC1IER.  33 

whether  this  or  that  sermon  or  doctrine  will    increase  or  di 
minish  his  salary,  but  simply  asks  whether  it  is  TRUE. 

"  His  firmness  is  extraordinary,  but,  acting  under  his  higher 
faculties,  he  never  evinces  obstinacy,  but  only  determination 
and  perseverance  in  doing  good.  Though  cautiousness  renders 
him  careful  in  taking  grounds,  yet  he  is  one  of  the  most 
straightforward  men  we  meet  with." 


LYMAN  BEECHER,  D.  D. 

believe  it  was  Theodore  Parker  who  said  that 
Dr.  Beecner  was  "  the  father  of  more  brains  than  any 
other  man  in  America."  The  saying  is  a  just  one; 
and  not  only  is  Lyman  Beecher  the  father  of  brains, 
but  he  is  the  possessor.  If  he  were  simply  the  father 
of  such  an  illustrious  set  of  children,  it  would  not  be 
out  of  place  for  us  to  sketch  him  here  ;  but  inasmuch 
as  he  is  one  of  the  pioneers  of  reform  in  this  country, 
it  would  be  improper  not  to  say  a  few  words  about 
him. 

Dr.  Beecher  is  a  thoroughly  original  character. 
He  is  unlike  any  one  else, — unless  it  be  his  own  chil 
dren,  upon  whom  he  has  impressed  his  own  character. 
He  is  one  of  the  most  popular  public  men  in  the 
country,  though  he  is  one  of  the  boldest  thinkers  and 
most  earnest  actors.  His  energy  of  character  is 
greater  than  that  of  any  other  living  American.  He 
was  born  just  as  the  fires  of  the  revolution  were 
kindling,  and  it  would  seem  as  if  the  energy,  patriot 
ism,  and  ardor  of  those  days  were  stamped  at  an 
early  age  upon  his  character.  The  date  of  his  birth 
is  October  12, 1775  ;  the  place,  a  house  still  standing 


BEECHER,  D.  D.  35 


on  the  corner  of  George  and  College  streets, 
Haven.  His  ancestors  were  godly  men,  men  of 
strong  constitutions  and  iron  frames.  His  father  was 
a  blacksmith  ;  his  mother  was  a  woman  of  fine,  joy 
ous  spirits,  always  full  of  hope.  He  was  named  after 
his  mother's  family  —  Lyman  —  and  was  brought  up 
by  his  uncle,  Lot  Benton,  of  Korth  Guilford,  Con 
necticut.  He  was  a  feeble,  seven  months'  child,  his 
mother  dying  four  days  after  his  birth.  His  uncle 
Lot  was  an  erratic,  yet  kind-hearted  old  man.  He 
one  day  asked  Lyman  if  he  wanted  to  go  to  College, 
and  upon  his  answering  in  the  affirmative,  without 
another  word  he  sent  him  to  a  preparatory  school, 
and,  when  he  was  fitted,  to  college.  He  entered 
Yale  college  in  September,  1793,  at  the  age  of 
eighteen.  Many  stories  are  told  of  him  while  in 
college,  illustrating  his  energy  and  eccentricity  of 
character. 

He  was  first  settled,  we  believe,  in  East  Hampton, 
L.  I.,  where  several  of  his  children  were  born.  He 
next  removed  to  Litchfield,  Connecticut,  where  Mrs. 
Stowe  and  Henry  "Ward  Beecher  were  born.  While 
in  Litchfield  lie  wrote  and  preached  his  famous  "  Six 
Sermons  "  on  temperance.  It  required  a  vast  deal 
of  genuine  courage  at  that  day  to  preach  total  absti 
nence  from  the  pulpit,  but  having  become  thoroughly 
convinced  of  his  duty,  the  brave  man  did  it,  and  left 
the  consequences  with  his  Maker. 


30  1IODEKN    AGITATOKS. 

From  Litchficld  the  doctor  went  to  an  influential 
Presbyterian  church  in  Boston  ;  soon  after,  he  went 
through  with  a  trial  for  heresy,  being  guilty  of  be 
lieving  in  what  are  termed  new  school  theological 
doctrines.  He  next  accepted  the  presidency  of  Lane 
Seminary,  and  remained  at  that  post,  accomplishing 
a  vast  amount  of  good  by  his  example  and  his  in 
structions,  until  1850.  A  thousand  anecdotes  are 
told  of  the  good  man,  which  exhibit  his  singular  yet 
noble  character.  A  few  of  them  we  will  quote,  as 
they  show  us  the  man  better  than  mere  description 
can.  The  following  illustrates  his  comical  nature  : 

"  One  dark  night,  as  he  was  driving  home  with  his  wife  and 
Mrs.  Stowe  in  the  carriage,  the  whole  party  were  upset  over 
a  bank  about  fifteen  feet  high.  They  had  no  sooner  extricated 
themselves  from  the  wreck,  than  Mrs.  Beecher  and  Mrs. 
Stowe,  who  were  unhurt,  returned  thanks  for  their  providential 
escape.  'Speak  for  yourselves,'  said  the  doctor,  who  was 
feeling  his  bruises,  '  I  have  got  a  good  many  hard  bumps  any 
how.' " 

This  one  his  liberality  : 

"  One  day  his  wife  had  given  him  from  the  common  purse 
twenty-five  or  thirty  dollars  in  bills,  with  particular  instruc 
tions  to  buy  a  coat,  of  which  he  stood  in  need.  He  went 
down  to  the  city  to  make  the  ,purchase,  but  stopping  on  the 
way  at  a  meeting  in  behalf  of  foreign  missions,  the  box  was 
handed  round,  and  in  went  his  little  roll  of  bills.  He  forgot 
his  coat  in  his  anxiety  for  the  Sandwich  Islanders." 


LYMAN  BKKCilMK,  D.  D.  37 

The  following  is  a  college  anecdote : 

"  One  night  Mr.  Beecher  was  awakened  by  a  sound  at  his 
window,  as  if  some  one  were  drawing  a  cloth  through  a  broken 
pane  of  glass ;  springing  up,  he  dimly  saw  his  clothes  disap 
pearing  through  a  broken  window — a  thief  having  taken  a 
fancy  to  them.  Waiting  for  no  ceremonies  of  toilet,  he  dashed 
out  through  the  door  after  him.  The  rascal  dropped  the 
clothes  at  once,  and  put  himself  to  his  best  speed.  But  Lyman 
was  not  the  man  to  be  easily  out-run,  especially  when  thus 
stripped  to  the  race.  After  dodging  a  few  times,  and  turning 
several  corners,  the  caitiff  was  seized  and  marched  back  by 
the  eager  student.  He  ushered  him  into  his  room,  compelled 
him  to  lie  down  on  the  floor  by  the  side  of  his  bed,  while  he, 
more  comfortably  ensconced  in  his  bed,  lay  the  night  long 
watching  him ; — the  silence  being  broken  only  by  an  occa 
sional  " Lie  still,  sir"  In  the  morning  the  culprit  was  taken 
before  a  magistrate,  who  was  evidently  a  lineal  descendant 
of  Justice  Shallow.  The  magistrate,  after  hearing  the  partic 
ulars,  asked  Mr.  Beecher,  *  whether  in  turning  the  comers  he 
lost  sight  of  the  man  at  all.'  He  replied,  that  he  was  out  of 
sight  but  a  second,  for  he  was  close  upon  him.  '  Ah,  well,  if 
you  lost  sight  of  him  at  all,  you  cannot  swear  to  his  identity,' 
and  so  the  man  was  discharged.  Mr.  B.  met  the  fellow  sev 
eral  times  afterward,  but  could  not  catch  his  eye." 

The  anecdotes  which  follow,  have  floated  singly 
or  in  pairs  over  the  country  for  years.  J.  Ross  Dix 
has  gathered  them  together  in  his  "  Pulpit  Portraits," 
and  they  are  too  good  to  be  overlooked  : 


38  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

"  In  n  trip  along  the  coast  of  Connecticut  in  a  small  craft  fur 
his  health,  being  detained  by  baffling  winds,  it  was  in  the 
midst  of  church  service,  on  a  sabbath  morning,  that  he  landed  at 
a  village  where  only  the  clergyman  knew  him.  His  was  in  full 
sea  rigging.  His  entrance  to  the  audience  room  attracted  no  at 
tention.  But  when,  during  the  prayer,  after  sermon,  he  walked 
up  the  aisle,  and  began  to  ascend  the  pulpit  steps,  all  eyes  were  on 
him.  The  young  people  tittered,  and  the  tithing  men  began  to 
look  authoritative,  as  if  business  was  on  hand.  The  officiating 
clergyman,  at  the  close  of  his  prayer,  cordially  shook  him  by  the 
hand,  to  the  growing  surprise  of  spectators — not  lessened  by 
the  doctor's  rising  to  make  some  'addicional  remarks.'  'When 
I  began,'  we  once  heard  the  doctor  say,  '  I  could  see  all  the 
good  and  sober  people  looking  rather  grave  at  such  an  appear 
ance,  while  all  the  young  people  winked  at  each  other,  as  if 
they  expected  some  sport.  But  it  was  not  long  before  I  saw 
the  old  folks  begin  to  look  up  and  smile,  and  the  young  folks 
to  look  sober.'  If  any  one  has  heard  Dr.  Beecher  in  one  of 
his  best  moods,  in  an  extemporaneous  outburst,  they  can  well 
imagine  with  what  power  an  application  would  come  from 
him,  and  how  the  sudden  transitions  of  feeling,  and  the  strange 
contrasts  between  his  weather-beaten  appearance  and  seaman's 
garb,  and  his  impassioned  eloquence,  would  heighten  the  ef 
fect.  When  he  concluded,  he  turned  to  the  pastor  and  said, 
'how  could  you  have  such  a  grand  sermon  without  any  appli 
cation  1 '  'I  wrote  out  the  body  of  the  sermon,  meaning  to 
extemporize  the  application,  but  after  you  came  in  it  scared  it 
out  of  my  head.' 

"  He  once  received  from  several  ladies  of  his  church  a  sum 


LYMAN    BEECHER,  D.  D.  89 

of  money  for  his  wife,  to  be  used  in  the  purchase  of  a  carpet 
It  was  put  into  his  vest  pocket,  and  of  course  forgotten. 
There  was,  about  this  time,  an  effort  on  foot  to  build  an  ortho 
dox  church  in  a  neighboring  village,  in  which  the  doctor  took 
great  interest.  Meeting  a  gentleman  engaged  in  the  enter 
prise,  the  doctor  expressed  a  wish  to  give  something  himself. 
Ransacking  his  pockets,  he  discovered  this  carpet  money, 
and  expressed  great  surprise  at  its  unexpected  presence. 
4  Why — when  did  I  get  this  1  I  am  sure  I  do  not  remember 
this  money  !  Well,  it  is  plain  Providence  provided  it  for  this 
cause.'  Accordingly  it  was  given.  Not  many  weeks  after, 
the  lady  donors  called,  expecting  to  see  a  new  carpet  on  their 
pastor's  parlor.  Nothing  was  known  about  it  by  the  good 
wife.  The  doctor  was  summoned,  and  the  case  stated. 
'  There,  that  was  it !  I  remember  now.  It  must  have  been 
the  money  I  gave  for  that  church.' 

"  When  he  was  sixty-eight  or  seventy  years  of  age,  he  vis 
ited  a  son  in  the  interior  of  Indiana.  One  of  the  young  men 
in  the  village  kindly  volunteered  to  go  out  with  the  doctor  to 
hunt.  After  some  success,  they  took  a  little  circuit  each  of 
his  own.  Hearing  the  doctor's  gun,  Mr.  V.  made  toward 
him,  and  to  his  surprise,  saw  the  doctor,  boots  and  coat  off, 
about  twenty  feet  up  a  tree,  and  making  his  way  nimbly. 
4  Doctor,  what  are  you  doing  ? '  'I  shot  a  squirrel,  and  he  ran 
into  that  hole,  and  I  am  determined  to  have  him  out.'  It  was 
only  on  the  promise  of  his  young  friend  that  he  would  go  up 
and  eject  him,  that  he  consented  to  give  over  his  perilous 
climbing. 

"  When  about  seventy -five  years  of  age,  he  spent  a  fort- 


40  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

night  in  the  eastern  part  of  Maine.  A  party  of  gentlemen  at 
Calais,  went  with  him  upon  a  little  expedition  into  the  Indian 
territories,  spending  several  days  there  hunting  and  fishing. 
When  about  to  embark  upon  a  chain  of  lakes  in  birch  canoes, 
the  Indian  guide,  Etienne,  rather  objected  to  so  old  a  man  at- 
tempting  the  adventure,  fearing  that  he  would  give  out.  He 
did  not  know  his  man.  The  doctor  rowed  with  the  best  of 
the  youngsters ;  caught  more  trout  than  all  the  party  together, 
and  returned  each  day  from  the  various  tramps,  in  the  lead; 
eat  his  fish  on  a  rock,  with  a  sea-biscuit  for  a  trencher,  and 
fingers  for  knives  and  forks :  slept  on  the  ground,  upon  hem 
lock  branches  under  a  tent,  and,  at  length,  the  Indian  guide 
went  from  the  extreme  of  depreciation  to  the  highest  expres 
sion  of  admiration  in  his  power, — saying,  '  Ah  !  old  man  all 
Indian  1 ' 

"  While  residing  on  Long  Island,  in  early  life,  he  was  re 
turning  home  just  at  evening  from  a  visit  to  old  Dr.  Wool- 
worth.  Seeing  what  he  thought,  in  the  dark,  to  be  a  rabbit 
by  the  road-side,  a  little  ahead,  he  reasoned  with  himself — 
'  They  are  rather  tender  animals — if  the  fellow  sits  still  till  I 
come  up,  I  think  I  could  hit  him  with  these  books,'  a  goodly 
bundle  of  which  he  had  in  his  handkerchief.  Hit  him  he  surely 
did  ;  only  it  proved  to  be  not  a  rabbit,  but  a  skunk.  The  lo 
gical  consequences  followed,  and  he  returned  to  his  family  in 
anything  but  the  odor  of  sanctity.  In  after  life,  being  asked 
why  he  did  not  reply  to  a  scurrilous  attack  which  had  been 
made  upon  him,  the  doctor  answered,  'I  discharged  a  quarto 
once  at  a  skunk,  and  I  then  made  up  my  mind  never  to  try  it 
again. 


LYMAN  BEECHEE,  D.  D.  41 

'•  During  the  prevalence  of  a  revival  in  his  church  in  Boston, 
the  number  of  persons  desiring  religious  conversation  was  so 
great,  sometimes  amounting  to  several  hundred,  that  he  was 
accustomed  to  employ  younger  clergymen  to  assist  him.  On 
one  occasion,  a  young  Andoverian  was  conversing  with  a  per 
son,  who  believed  herself  to  be  converted,  within  the  doctor's 
hearing.  The  young  rhan  was  probing  the  grounds  of  her  ev 
idence,  and  among  other  questions  was  overheard  asking  the 
lady  if  she  '  thought  that  she  was  willing  to  be  damned  for  the 
glory  of  God  1 '  Instantly  starting  up,  the  doctor  said  to  him, 
'  What  was  that  you  were  asking  ? '  I  was  asking  her  if  she 
would  be  willing  to  be  damned  for  the  glory  of  God.'  '  Well, 
sir,  would  you  be  willing  ? '  '  Yes,  sir,  I  humbly  hope  I 
should  be.'  '  Well,  then,  sir,  you  ought  to  be  damned.'  And, 
afterward,  he  took  occasion  to  enlighten  him  to  a  better  theol 
ogy.  His  absorption  in  thought  gave  rise  to  absent-minded 
ness  and  to  forgetfulness,  frequently  to  ludicrous  stories.  On 
several  occasions  he  entered  his  neighbors'  houses  in  Boston, 
for  his  own,  and  was  only  awakened  to  the  truth  by  the  ap 
pearance  of  the  kind  mistress,  who  saluted  him  with  'Good 
morning,  doctor;  we  are  happy  to  see  you  here.'  But,  in  one 
case,  in  another  mansion,  where  the  good  woman  had  a  sweet 
heart,  but  a  sour  tongue,  the  salutation  was  more  piquant : — 
'  Doctor,  if  you  can't  find  your  own  house,  I  wish  you  would 
hire  a  man  to  go  and  show  you.'  Well,  it  is  not  very  com 
fortable  to  have  a  neighbor  walk  into  your  parlor,  with  two  or 
three  clergymen  in  train,  appropriate  your  chairs,  call  for  the 
servants,  and  even  stand  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  calling  out, 
*  My  dear — my  dear !  will  you  come  down  1 '  Hundreds  of 


42  MODEPwN   AGITATORS. 

stories  related  of  the  doctor  are  mere  fictions,  or  ascriptions  to 
him  of  things  belonging  to  other  men.  He  once  said,  if  I 
should  write  my  own  life,  the  first  volume  should  contain  the 
things  which  I  did  not  do  and  did  not  say.  Nevertheless,  not 
a  few  are  authentic." 

Dr.  Beecher,  physically,  is  not  a  large  man ;  in 
deed,  is  rather  small,  but  he  is  firmly,  strongly  made. 
His  head  is  large  ;  the  hair  combed  straight  back 
from  his  forehead,  giving  him  a  bold  and  fearless 
look,  which  comports  well  with  his  character.  His 
eyes  are  light  blue,  his  nose  is  prominent,  mouth 
large,  and  his  complexion  is  florid.  A  stranger 
would  hardly  think,  upon  seeing  Dr.  Beecher  in  the 
pulpit,  and  not  knowing  him,  that  a  great  man  was 
Lefore  him.  Says  a  good  critic  of  pulpit  eloquence  : 

a  "Well  do  I  remember  the  first  time  I  heard  him  preach.  It 
was  seventeen  years  ago.  From  early  childhood  I  had  been 
taught  to  reverence  the  name  of  the  great  divine  and  orator, 
and  I  had  long  promised  myself  the  pleasure  of  listening  to 
him.  My  first  Sunday  morning  in  Cincinnati  found  me  sitting 
\vith  his  congregation.  The  pastor  was  not  as  punctual  as  the 
flock.  Several  minutes  had  elapsed  after  the  regular  hour  for 
beginning  the  service,  when  one  of  the  doors  opened,  and  I  saw 
a  hale  looking  old  gentleman  enter.  As  he  pulled  off  his  hat, 
half  a  dozen  papers,  covered  with  notes  of  sermons,  fluttered 
down  to  the  floor ;  the  hat  appeared  to  contain  a  good  many 
more.  Stooping  down  and  picking  them  up  deliberately,  he 


LYMAX  BEECHER,  D.  D.  43 

came  scuttling  down  the  aisle,  with  a  step  so  quick  and  reso 
lute,  as  rather  to  alarm  certain  prejudices  I  had  on  the  score 
of  clerical  solemnity.  Had  I  met.  him  on  a  parade  ground,  I 
should  have  singled  him  out  as  some  general  in  undress,  spite 
of  the  decided  stoop  contracted  in  study  ;  the  iron-gray  hair 
brushed  stiffly  toward  the  back  of  the  head ;  the  keen,  saga 
cious  eyes,  the  firm,  hard  lines  of  the  brown  and  wrinkled  vis 
age,  and  the  passion  and  power  latent  about  the  mouth,  with 
its  long  and  scornful  under  lip,  bespoke  a  character  more  likely 
to  attack  than  to  suffer.  His  manner  did  not  change  my  first 
impression.  The  ceremonies  preliminary  to  the  sermon  were 
dispatched  in  rather  a  summary  way.  A  petition  in  the  long 
prayer  was  expressed  so  pithily  I  have  never  forgotten  it. 

"  I  forget  now  what  reprehensible  intrigue  our  rulers  were 
busy  in  at  the  time,  but  the  doctor,  after  praying  for  their  adop 
tion  of  various  useful  measures,  alluded  to  their  conduct  in  the 
following  terms:  'And,  O  Lord,  grant  we  may  not  despise 
our  rulers ;  and  grant  they  may  not  act  so,  that  we  can't  help 
it.'  It  may  be  doubted  whether  any  English  bishop  has  ever  ut 
tered  a  similar  prayer  for  king  and  parliament.  To  deliver 
his  sermon,  the  preacher  stood  bolt  upright,  stiff  as  a  musket. 
At  first,  he  twitched  off  and  replaced  his  spectacles  a  dozen 
times  in  as  many  minutes,  with  a  nervous  motion,  gesturing 
meanwhile  with  frequent  pump-handle  strokes  of  his  right  arm; 
but  as  he  went  on,  his  unaffected  language  began  to  glow  with 
animation,  his  simple  style  became  figurative  and  graphic,  and 
flashes  of  irony  lighted  up  the  dark  groundwork  of  his  puritani 
cal  reasoning.  Smiles  and  tears  chased  each  other  over  the 
faces  of  many  in  the  audience.  His  peroration  was  one  of 
*  1* 


44  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

great  beauty  and  power.     I  have  heard  him  hundreds  of  times 
since,  and  he  has  never  failed  to  justify  his  claim  to  the  title 

of '  the  old  man  eloquent.' 

% 

The- "  father  of  the  Beechers  "  is  worthy  of  everlast 
ing  remembrance,  because  of  his  manliness.  We  want 
iron  men  in  these  days,  more  than  we  want  splendid 
preachers  or  passionate  poets.  Lyman  Beecher  has 
infused  into  the  ministry  a  new  spirit  of  reform. 
He  is  a  living  rebuke  to  all  ministerial  cowards. 
He  has  lived  a  life  of  incessant  toil,  yet  has  habitu 
ated  himself  to  such  manly  recreations  that  he  has 
not  been  obliged  to  waste  one  half  his  existence  in 
recovering  lost  health.  One  hundred  such  men  can 
revolutionize  a  nation,  for  they  impress  themselves 
ineffaceably  upon  their  generation. 


^c 


E.  II.  GIIAPIN. 

AMONG  the  foremost  of  popular  lecturers  in  Amer 
ica  is  Rev.  E.  H.  Chapin.  He  is  eminently  a  social 
philosopher ;  a  man  who  does  not  look  upon  society 
merely  in  the  aggregate,  as  a  molten  current  of  flow 
ing  humanity,  but  who  views  a  collection  of  individ 
uals,  each  possessing  a  character,  an  ambition,  an 
aim  exclusively  his  own.  He  has  so  accustomed 
himself  to  study  out  the  character,  the  thoughts  and 
feelings,  the  hopes  and  trials  of  each,  that  when  the 
subject  presents  itself  to  the  mind  of  the  lecturer  he 
has  the  whole  picture  vividly  before  his  imagination  ; 
he  paints  it  from  life  ;  he  has  seen  it,  has  contempla 
ted  it  in  every  varying  shade  in  which  it  could  be 
presented.  In  his  convulsive  grasp  the  miser,  the 
mean  man,  the  political  demagogue,  and  the  hypo 
crite,  exhibit  to  the  world  all  their  hideous  deformi 
ties  ;  while  the  virtues  of  the  good,  the  kind,  the  be 
nevolent,  and  the  noble  are  beautified  by  his  touch  with 
a  perfection  hardly  native.  If  he  turns  his  attention 
to  the  city,  the  broad  field  of  humanity  is  all  bare  be 
fore  his  gaze.  He  walks  abroad  in  the  street ;  every 
man  he  meets  affords  him  a  theme  for  meditation, 


46  MODERN  AGITATORS. 

and  every  child  a  text  for  a  sermon.  Not  a  circum 
stance  of  his  life  seems  to  have  passed  but  has  fur 
nished  him  the  pith  of  some  crammed  apothegm,  or 
the  parallel  for  a  striking  simile.  Not  a  cry  of  wo 
has  reached  his  ear  but  has  found  the  way  to  his 
heart,  and  will  come  forth  again  in  pathetic  beauty 
to  deepen  some  sketch  of  human  suffering  ;  not  a 
shout  of  laughter  but  will  reecho  in  some  vivid  sen 
tence  to  brighten  the  shade  of  our  humanity.  It  is 
this  characteristic  which  has  made  Mr.  Chapin  emi 
nently  popular  among  the  masses.  His  learning 
might  have  made  him  a  profound  rhetorician  ;  his 
talent  and  beauty  of  expression  a  fine  writer ;  his  real 
native  eloquence  a  splendid  orator ;  but  all  these 
could  not  have  made  him  the  man  that  he  is.  Super- 
add  to  these  his  susceptible  heart,  his  benevolent 
spirit,  his  gentle  disposition,  and  Christian  refinement, 
and  you  have  Chapin. 

He  is  presented  to  our  notice  as  a  writer,  a  speaker, 
a  poet — for  he  has  written  some  beautiful  lyrics — a 
preacher,  and  a  reformer.  The  last  distinction  might 
once  have  been  thought  needless,  but  in  the  era  of 
Lords — many,  of  Spragues,  of  Springs,  et  cetera,  we 
think  it  essential. 

There  are  few  men  living  from  whose  writings 
more  beautiful  sentences  can  be  taken  than  from  Mr. 
Chapin's.  Here  is  one  upon  the  blessings  of  home  : 


E.  H.  CHAPE*.  47 

"  Oh  !  mother,  mother ;  name  for  the  earliest  relationship, 
symbol  of  the  divine  tenderness ;  kindling  a  love  that  we  never 
blush  to  confess,  and  a  veneration  that  we  cannot  help  render 
ing  ;  how  does  your  mystic  influence,  imparted  from  the  soft 
pressure  and  the  undying  smile,  weave  itself  through  all  the 
brightness,  through  all  the  darkness  of  our  after  life!  *  *  * 
And  when  on  this  familiar  hearth  our  own  vital  lamp  burns 
low,  and  the  golden  bowl  begins  to  shudder,  and  the  silver  cord 
to  untwine,  let  our  last  look  be  upon  the  faces  that  we  best 
love ;  let  the  gates  that  open  into  the  celestial  city  be  those 
well  known  doors — and  thus  may  we  also  die  at  home  ! v/ 

Here  also  is  a  fine  glimpse  of  childhood  snatched 
from  nature  ;  it  is  one  of  a  perpetual  supply  of  gems 
that  are  strung  upon  the  thread  of  his  discourse  : 

"  And  all  of  us,  I  trust,  are  thankful  that  God  has  created  not 
merely  men  and  women,  crimped  into  artificial  patterns,  with 
selfish  speculation  in  their  eyes,  with  sadness,  and  weariness, 
and  trouble  about  many  things,  carving  the  wrinkles  and  steal 
ing  away  the  bloom  ;  but  pours  in  upon  us  a  fresh  stream  of 
being  that  overflows  our  rigid  conventionalisms  with  the  buoy 
ancy  of  nature,  plays  into  this  dusty  and  angular  life  like  the 
jets  of  a  fountain,  like  floods  of  sunshine,  upsets  our  miserable 
dignity,  meets  us  with  a  love  that  contains  no  deceit,  a  frank 
ness  that  rebukes  our  quibbling  compliments,  nourishes  the 
poetry  of  the  soul,  and  perpetually  descending  from  the  thres 
hold  of  the  Infinite,  keeps  open  an  archway  of  mystery  and 
heaven." 


48  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

In  fact,  the  charin  of  Mr.  Cliapin's  declamation 
consists  mainly  in  the  beauty  and  force  of  his  expres 
sion.  With  some  men  it  is  the  manner  ;  with  him  the 
matter.  When  he  would  demolish  a  vice  or  praise  a 
virtue  he  first  paints  the  one  in  hideous  truth,  or  the 
other  with  strange  beauty,  until  you  loathe  the  one 
or  love  the  other.  He  does  not  employ  his  pen  in 
systematizing  sin,  and  shielding  the  individual  be 
hind  the  organization,  or  the  party,  or  the  association 
in  which  he  acts,  but  brings  the  charge  right  home 
to  the  door  of  every  guilty  man's  conscience,  and  if 
that  door  be  not  double  barred  from  the  force  of 
truth,  will  batter  down  the  barricade  and  lay  the  load 
of  crime  upon  the  hearthstone  of  the  heart.  And 
here  permit  a  brief  illustrating  paragraph  upon  indi 
vidual  responsibility  : 

"  God  does  not  take  account  of  parties ;  party  names  are  not 
known  in  that  court  of  divine  judgment ;  but  your  name  and 
mine  are  on  the  books  there.  If  the  party  lies,  then  you  are 
guilty  of  falsehood.  If  the  party — as  is  very  often  the  case 
-—does  a  mean  thing,  then  you  do  it.  It  is  surely  so,  as 
far  as  you  are  one  of  the  party,  and  go  with  it  in  its  action. 
There  is  no  such  thing — and  this  is  true,  perhaps,  in  more 
senses  than  one — there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  party  conscience. 
It  is  individual  conscience  that  is  implicated.  Party  !  party  ! 
Ah,  my  friends,  here  is  the  influence  which,  it  is  to  be  feared, 
balks  and  falsifies  many  of  these  glorious  symbols.  Men  rally 


E.  H.  CHAPE*.  49 

arouna  musty  epithets.  They  take  up  issues  which  have  no 
more  relation  to  the  deep,  vital,  throbbing  interest  of  the  time 
than  they  have  to  the  fashions  of  our  grandfathers.  *  *  * 
And  surely  it  is  a  case  for  congratulation,  when  some  great, 
exciting  question  breaks  out  and  jars  their  conventional  idols, 
and  so  sweeps  and  shatters  their  party  organization  and  turns 
them  topsy-turvy,  that  a  man  is  shaken  out  of  his  harness,  does 
not  know  exactly  what  party  he  does  belong  to,  and  begins  to 
feel  that  he  has  a  soul  of  his  own." 

This  quotation  hurries  him  into  our  view  as  a  pub 
lic  speaker  or  lecturer,  for  we  agree  with  a  recent 
writer  that  Mr.  Chapin  is  one  of  the  most  splendid 
of  American  orators.  To  the  platform  he  brings  a 
stout  body,  rather  heavily  proportioned  for  his  height. 
He  is  very  near-sighted,  to  palliate  which  defect  he 
wears  glasses,  and  keeps  his  eyes  and  face  close  to 
his  notes.  He  generally  writes  out  his  address, 
though  in  the  pulpit  he  occasionally  extemporizes. 
He  is  possessed  of  many  of  those  qualifications  which 
draw  full  houses,  and  send  them  home  well  satisfied. 
He  is  always  spirited,  nervous,  enthusiastic,  and  often 
rises  into  a  vein  of  thrilling  eloquence.  To  a  rapid 
but  distinct  enunciation  he  unites  a  fervor  and  ardor 
which  is  sure  to  win  the  profound  attention  of  his  au 
dience.  His  style  of  thought  is  quite  original,  his 
expression  terse  and  powerful,  and  as  he  becomes 
•warmed  with  his  subject  his  excitement  spreads  as 


50  MODEEN   AGITATORS. 

by  a  magic  influence  to  the  listeners.  Where  at  first 
he  only  caught  the  attention  by  some  eccentric  de 
scription  of  a  human  animal,  he  now  rivets  it  by  a 
more  gloomy  picture.  Where  a  moment  since  you 
were  only  interested,  you  are  now  watching  intensely 
to  devour  his  words  with  eager  avidity  as  they  fall. 
Gradually  you  forget  that  any  one  is  in  the  room  but 
yourself  and  the  speaker.  On  he  leads  you  and  with 
you  every  soul  in  his  audience  to  feed  on  new  fruits 
of  intellect,  and  dazzle  with  new  diamonds  from  his 
brilliant  imagination.  Scarcely  are  your  sympathies 
apoise  and  your  eyes  ready  to  pay  the  "draft  on 
sight,"  when  a  pungent  satire  brings  down  the  house 
with  a  tumult  of  applause.  Then  away  his  fancy 
flies  in  a  new  direction  ;  all  the  beauties  of  heaven 
rise  up  in  beatific  vision  to  the  enraptured  gaze. 
Spread  out  before  you  are  fields  of  living  green,  and 
streamlets  from  eternal  mind,  in  every  direction, 
through  gardens  of  surpassing  loveliness.  From 
those  ever  blooming  flowers  celestial  odors  are  wafted 
down  to  earth.  Angelic  choirs  fill  the  great  dome 
of  heaven  with  music  too  enchanting  for  mortal  ears, 
yet  you  seem  to  catch  the  faint  echoes.  Over  all  the 
scene  a  blaze  of  glory  falls  from  "  Him  that  liveth 
and  sitteth  upon  the  throne."  All  is  still,  for  all  are 
wrapt  in  the  magnificent  dream-mantle  with  which 
lie  has  enveloped  you  ;  the  climax  is  at  length 


E.  H.  CHAPIN. 

reached,  and  when  in  a  clear,  melodious  voice  he  re 
peats  the  chorus,  "  Blessing  and  honor  and  glory  be 
unto  Him  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne  and  to  the 
Lamb  for  ever  and  ever,"  you  can  hardly  restrain 
yourself  from  shouting  "hallelujah,"  like  a  Methodist. 

This  strange  fascination  Mr.  Chapin  wields,  alike 
over  young  and  old.  Most  of  the  popular  speakers 
of  our  day  have  a  class  which  it  is  their  peculiar 
forte  to  please.  But  Mr.  Chapin  pleases  all.  The 
high  and  low,  the  rich  and  poor,  the  cultivated  intel 
lect  and  the  untutored  mind  of  the  laborer,  the  aris 
tocrat  and  the  democrat  are  alike  charmed  by  the 
wonderful  beauty  of  his  eloquence.  Without  adula 
tory  flattery,  he  compliments  the  virtues  of  the  gener 
ous,  and,  without  giving  offense,  chastises  the  defects 
of  the  parsimonious.  With  a  keen  knife  he  removes  a 
vice  as  a  skillful  surgeon  excises  a  tumor,  having  first 
made  the  patient  see  that  it  is  absolutely  necessry 
for  his  health.  If  he  applies  an  acrid  irritant,  you 
are  confident  that  the  deep-seated  disease  could  be 
removed  in  no  other  way,  and  are  satisfied. 

As  a  poet,  the  world  only  regrets  that  he  has  writ 
ten  so  little.  Who  has  not  read  and  admired  that 
sweet  poem — "Oh  bury  me  not  in  the  deep  blue 
sea  ?  "  Half  of  his  prose  is  in  measured  periods,  and 
all  of  it  tinged  with  the  rich  blush  of  his  splendid 
imagination. 


52  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

We  were  to  glance  at  his  character  as  a  minister 
of  the  gospel.  It  is  well  known  that  Mr.  Chapin  is 
an  able  champion  of  the  doctrine  of  universal  salva 
tion.  "We  have  neither  time  nor  inclination  to  inquire 
now  what  is  the  foundation  of  his  belief.  That  he  is 
sincere  in  it,  probably  few  will  dispute  ;  and  it  makes 
him  a  better  man  and  more  like  a  Christian,  than 
many  who  profess  a  more  orthodox  faith.  By  his  own 
congregation,  at  least,  he  is  deemed  an  earnest  labor 
er,  and  by  others,  a  mistaken  workman  in  the  great 
harvest.  By  all  it  is  admitted  that  he  is  extensively 
useful.  His  idea  of  religion  is  well  given  by  himself, 
in  the  following  passage : 

"  It  must  be  understood  that '  being  religious'  is  not  a  work 
apart  by  itself,  but  a  spirit  of  faith  and  righteousness,  flowing 
out  from  the  center  of  a  regenerated  heart,  into  all  the  em 
ployments  and  intercourse  of  the  world.  Not  merely  the 
preacher  in  the  pulpit,  and  the  saint  on  his  knees,  may  do  the 
work  of  religion,  but  the  mechanic,  who  smites  with  the  ham 
mer  and  drives  the  wheel ;  the  artist,  seeking  to  realize  his 
pure  ideal  of  the  beautiful ;  the  mother,  in  the  gentle  offices 
of  home ;  the  statesman,  in  the  forlorn  hope  of  liberty  and 
justice ;  and  the  philosopher,  whose  thoughts  tread  reverently 
among  the  splendid  mysteries  of  the  universe.  *  *  *  It 
is  needed  that  men  should  feel  that  every  lawful  pursuit  is  sa 
cred  and  not  profane ;  that  every  position  in  life  is  close  to  the 
steps  of  the  divine  throne ;  and  that  the  most  beaten  and  famil 
iar  paths  lie  under  the  awful  shadow  of  the  Infinite ;  and  they 


E.  H.  CHAP1N.  53 

will  go  about  their  daily  pursuits,  and  fill  their  common  rela- 
tionships,  \vith  hearts  of  worship,  and  pulses  of  unselfish  love, 
instead  of  regarding  religion  as  an  isolated  peculiarity  for  a 
corner  of  the  closet  and  a  fraction  of  the  week,  and  leaving  all 
the  rest  of  time  and  space  an  unconsecrated  waste,  where  law 
less  passions  travel,  and  selfishness  pitches  its  tents." 

We  leave  the  diversity  of  theories  for  those  who 
take  a  deeper  interest  in  metaphysical  disquisition 
than  we,  and  turn  to  the  contemplation  of  his  char 
acter  as  a  reformer.  If  we  have  rightly  estimated  his 
talents  and  training,  he  is  the  man,  of  all  others,  who 
would  be  selected  to  lead  the  sympathies  of  a  pro 
gressive  age.  His  main  efforts  have  been  directed  in 
two  channels :  one,  the  relief  of  the  poor,  the  degra 
ded,  and  the  outcast  about  him ;  the  other,  to  the 
cause  of  temperance  generally.  In  pleading  the  cause 
of  "  humanity  in  the  city,"  no  one  has  labored  more 
faithfully  than  Mr.  Chapin.  He  seems  acquainted 
with  every  phase  of  their  wretched  life.  He  enume 
rates  the  causes  of  their  destitution,  and  points  them 
to  the  remedy.  Their  miserable  condition  comes 
home  to  his  philanthropic  spirit,  and  spurs  him  to 
vigorous  action.  2so  matter  how  low-sunken  may  be 
the  victim  of  appetite  or  lust,  he  reaches  out  the  help 
ing  hand,  with  a  dollar  in  it,  and  says,  "  Brother,  take 
courage,  you  may  yet  be  a  man."  The  assurance  in 
spires  the  wanderer  with  new  life,  and  he  forgets,  for 
a  time,  that  "  no  man  cares  for  his  soul,"  or  his  body 


54  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

either.  He  takes  confidence,  and  goes  on  his  way 
rejoicing. 

For  the  young  men  of  New  York  Mr.  Chapin  has 
always  manifested  a  deep  and  lively  interest.  Many 
of  his  public  lectures  have  been  exclusively  for  their 
benefit.  The  cause  of  temperance  has  ever  found  in 
him  one  of  its  most  ardent  supporters.  In  his  own 
city  he  fought  the  license  law  with  all  the  force  he 
could  bring  to  bear  upon  it.  He  took  the  ground 
that  it  was  a  legalized  system  of  crime.  He  main 
tained  that  if  any  shops  should  be  licensed,  they 
should  be  the  low  kennels,  which  could  tempt  only 
those  who  were  already,  comparatively  speaking,  past 
hope.  He  has  also  lectured  much  upon  the  subject 
in  other  places,  and  stands  among  the  first  of  speak 
ers  upon  the  platform  of  temperance. 

In  Mr.  Chapin's  sermons  wrefind  frequent  allusions 
to  slavery,  which  evince  hostility  to  the  system,  but  he 
has  not  made  that  a  special  branch  of  his  labor.  We 
should  be  slow  to  believe  that  a  man  of  his  honesty 
and  humanity  would  withhold  his  influence  from  the 
right  side  of  the  question. 

As  has  been  intimated,  Mr.  Chapin  is  now  settled 
in  New  York.  He  labored  for  a  number  of  years  in 
Richmond,  Virginia,  and  in  Boston  and  Charlestown, 
Massachusetts.  He  is  a  little  more  than  forty  years 
of  age,  and  is  now  hale  and  hearty,  in  the  meridian 
of  his  usefulness. 


FREDERICK  DOUGLASS. 

THE  remarkable  man  who  is  the  subject  of  this 
sketch,  was  born  a  slave  in  Maryland.  His  exact 
age  is  not  known,  though  it  is  supposed  that  he  is  be 
tween  thirty  and  forty  years  old.  His  mother  died 
when  he  was  quite  young.  His  father  was  a  white 
man,  according  to  rumor,  his  own  master.  He  was 
early  compelled  to  witness  and  experience  the  bitter 
ness  of  a  life  of  bondage.  Speaking  of  a  time  when 
he  was  quite  young,  he  says  : 

"  I  have  often  been  awakened  at  the  dawn  of  day  by  the 
most  heart-rending  shrieks  of  an  own  aunt  of  mine,  whom  her 
master  used  to  tie  up  to  a  joist,  and  whip  upon  her  naked  back 
till  she  was  literally  covered  with  blood.  No  words,  no  tears, 
no  prayers,  from  his  gory  victim,  seemed  to  move  his  iron 
heart  from  its  bloody  purpose.  The  louder  she  screamed  the 
harder  he  whipped ;  and  where  the  blood  ran  fastest  there  he 
whipped  longest.  He  would  whip  her  to  make  her  scream, 
and  whip  her  to  make  her  hush ;  and  not  until  overcome  by 
fatigue,  would  he  cease  to  swing  the  blood-clotted  cowskin.  I 
remember  the  first  time  I  ever  witnessed  this  horrible  exhibi 
tion.  I  was  quite  a  child,  but  I  well  remember  it.  I  never 
shall  forget  it  whilst  I  remember  anything.  It  was  the  first  of 


56  MODERN  AGITATORS. 

a  long  series  of  such  outrages,  of  which  I  was  doomed  to  be  a 
witness  and  a  participant.  It  struck  me  with  awful  force.  It 
was  the  blood-stained  gate,  the  entrance  to  the  hell  of  slavery, 
through  which  I  was  about  to  pass.  It  was  a  most  terrible 
spectacle.  I  wish  J  could  commit  to  paper  the  feelings  with 
which  I  beheld  it." 

For  years  the  poor  slave,  as  a  field  hand,  served  a 
sad  apprenticeship  to  slavery.  He  was  sold  from 
master  to  master,  and  transferred  from  the  whip  of 
one  overseer  to  that  of  another.  But  it  was  impossi 
ble  by  experience  .to  reconcile  him  to  his  condition. 
Naturally  possessed  of  brilliant  powers  of  mind,  with 
a  fiery  yet  noble  nature,  he  could  not  remain  content 
edly  a  miserable  chattel  on  a  Maryland  plantation. 
As  yet,  he  had  thought-little  of  liberty,  for  the  love  of 
it  which  is  in  every  human  creature's  heart,  had  not 
kindled  in  his.  Still  there  were  strange,  murmuring 

O     *  O 

thoughts  constantly  haunting  his  brain.  A  melan 
choly  was  in  his  heart.  He  says,  very  strikingly  as 
well  as  beautifully,  of  the  songs  which  the  slaves  are 
so  noted  for  singing : 

"  I  did  not,  when  a  slave,  understand  the  deep  meaning  of 
those  rude  and  apparently  incoherent  songs.  I  was  myself 
within  the  circle  ;  so  that  I  neither  saw  nor  heard  as  those  with 
out  might  see  and  hear.  They  told  a  tale  of  woe  which  was 
then  altogether  beyond  my  feeble  comprehension  ;  they  were 
tones  loud,  long,  and  deep  ;  they  breathed  the  prayer  and  com 


FREDERICK   DOUGLASS.  57 

plaint  of  souls  boiling  over  with  the  bitterest  anguish.  Every 
tone  was  a  testimony  against  slavery,  and  a  prayer  to  God  for 
deliverance  from  chains.  The  hearing  of  those  wild  notes  al 
ways  depressed  my  spirit,  and  filled  me  with  ineffable  sadness. 
I  have  frequently  found  myself  in  tears  while  hearing  them. 
The  mere  recurrence  to  those  songs,  even  now,  afflicts  me  ;  and 
while  I  am  writing  these  lines,  an  expression  of  feeling  has  al 
ready  found  its  way  down  my  cheek.  To  those  songs  I  trace 
my  first  glimmering  conception  of  the  dehumanizing  character 
of  slavery.  I  can  never  get  rid  of  that  conception.  Those 
songs  still  follow  me,  to  deepen  my  hatred  of  slavery,  and 
quicken  my  sympathies  for  my  brethren  in  bonds.  If  any  one 
wishes  to  be  impressed  with  the  soul-killing  effects  of  slavery, 
let  him  go  to  Colonel  Lloyd's  plantation,  and,  on  allowance- 
day,  place  himself  in  the  deep  pine  woods,  and  there  let  him 
in  silence  analyze  the  sounds  that  shall  pass  through  the  cham 
bers  of  his  soul,  and  if  he  is  not  thus  impressed,  it  will  only  be 
because  there  is  no  flesh  in  his  obdurate  heart." 

From  the  field  Douglass  was  transferred  to  the 
town.  His  joy  was  great  at  being  permitted  to  live 
in  Baltimore.  He  was  allowed  clean  and  decent 
clothing,  for  he  was  going  to  live  with  city  people. 
His  city  mistress  was  a  mild,  pleasant  woman,  and 
he  says  that  his  soul  was  filled  with  rapture  when  he 
first  saw  her  kind  face,  and  experienced  her  gentle 
treatment.  She  taught  him  how  to  read,  or  rather, 
taught  him  his  letters,  and  he,  without  further  aid, 
completed  his  education.  By  persevering  and  secret 


58  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

toil,  he  managed  to  acquire  the  art  of  reading.  One 
of  the  first  books  he  met  with  was  Sheridan's  Speeches, 
and  they  served  well  to  stir  his  heart,  to  awaken  and 
intensify  his  longing  for  liberty.  Months  and  years 
flew  on,  and  in  the  meantime  he  changed  masters. 
The  desire  for  freedom  grew  strong  in  his  heart,  but 
it  was  not  till  after  he  had  felt  in  his  own  person  one 
of  the  bitterest  portions  of  the  slave's  experience,  that 
the  desire  attained  its  full  intensity.  We  will  quote 
his  own  account  of  this  passage  in  his  life  : 

"  On  one  of  the  hottest  days  of  the  month  of  August,  1833, 
Bill  Smith,  William  Hughes,  a  slave  named  Eli,  and  my 
self,  were  engaged  in  fanning  wheat.  Hughes  was  clearing  the 
fanned  wheat  from  before  the  fan,  Eli  was  turning,  Smith  was 
feeding,  and  I  was  carrying  wheat  to  the  fan.  The  work  was 
simple,  requiring  strength  rather  than  intellect ;  yet,  to  one  en 
tirely  unused  to  such  work,  it  came  very  hard.  About  three 
o'clock  of  that  day  I  broke  down ;  my  strength  failed  me ;  I 
was  seized  with  a  violent  aching  of  the  head,  attended  with  ex 
treme  dizziness ;  I  trembled  in  every  limb.  Finding  what  was 
coming,  I  nerved  myself  up,  feeling  it  would  never  do  to  stop 
work.  I  stood  as  long  as  I  could  stagger  to  the  hopper  with 
grain.  When  I  could  stand  no  longer  I  fell,  and  felt  as  if  held 
down  by  an  immense  weight.  The  fan  of  course  stopped ; 
everv  one  had  his  own  work  to  do  ;  and  no  one  could  do  the 
work  of  the  other  and  have  his  own  go  on  the  same  time. 

Mr.  Covey  was  at  the  house,  about  one  hundred  yards  from 
Lhe  troading-yard  where  we  were  fanning.  On  hearing  the  fan 


FREDERICK   DOUGLASS.  59 

stop,  he  left  immediately,  and  came  to  the  spot  where  we  were. 
He  hastily  inquired  what  the  matter  was.     Bill  answered  that 
I  was  sick,  and  there  was  no  one  to  bring  wheat  to  the  fan.     I 
had  by  this  time  crawled  away  under  the  side  of  the  post  and 
rail  fence,  by  which  the  yard  was  enclosed,  hoping  to  find  re 
lief  by  getting  out  of  the  sun.     He  then  asked  where  I  was. 
He  was  told  by  one  of  the  hands.     He  came  to  the  spot,  and, 
after  looking  at  me  awhile,  asked  me  what  was  the  matter.     I 
told  him  as  well  as  I  could,  for  I  scarce  had  strength  to  speak. 
He  then  gave  me  a  savage  kick  in  the  side,  and  told  me  to  get 
up.     I  tried  to  do  so,  but  fell  back  in  the  attempt.     He  gave 
me  another  kick,  and  again  told  me  to  rise.     I  again  tried,  and 
succeeded  in  gaining  my  feet ;  but  stooping  to  get  the  tub  with 
which  I  was  feeding  the  fan,  I  again  staggered  and  fell.     While 
down  in  this  situation,  Mr.  Covey  took  up  the  hickory  slat  with 
which  Hughes  had  been  striking  off  the  half-bushel   measure, 
and  with  it  gave  me  a  heavy  blow  upon  the  head,  making  a 
large  wound,  and  the  blood  ran  freely  ;  and  with  this  again 
told  me  to  get  up.     I  made  no  effort  to  comply,  having  now 
made  up  my  mind  to  let  him  do  his  worst.     In  a  short  time 
after  receiving  this  blowr  my  head  grew  better,     Mr.  Covey 
had  now  left  me  to  my  fate." 

After  this,  Douglas  had  the  courage  to  resist  an 
other  brutal  attack  from  Covey,  and  triumphed.  He 
began  now  to  seriously  contemplate  running  away 
from  the  bondage  so  hateful  to  him.  His  soul,  ani- 

O 

mated  by  the  same   spirit  which   once  dwelt  in  the 
bosom  of  Patrick  Henry,   could  not  brook  chains. 


60  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

could  not  still  its  own  pulses  at  the  bidding  of  a  white 
master.  He  has  given  in  graphic  language  the  con 
flict  of  hopes  and  fears  in  his  heart,  when  contempla 
ting  escape  by  flight  from  the  evils  which  surrounded 
him  : 

"  At  every  gate  through  which  we  were  to  pass  we  saw  a 
watchman — at  every  ferry  a  guard — on  every  bridge  a  senti 
nel,  and  in  every  wood  a  patrol.  We  were  hemmed  in  upon 
every  side.  Here  were  the  difficulties,  real  or  imagined — the 
good  to  be  sought,  and  the  evil  to  be  shunned.  On  the  one 
hand,  there  stood  slavery,  a  stern  reality,  glaring  frightfully 
upon  us,  its  robes  already  crimsoned  with  the  blood  of  millions, 
and  even  now  feasting  greedily  upon  our  own  flesh.  On  the 
other  hand,  away  back  in  the  dim  distance,  under  the  flickering 
light  of  the  north  star,  behind  some  craggy  hill  or  snow-cov 
ered  mountain,  stood  a  doubtful  freedom — half  frozen — beck 
oning  us  to  come  and  share  its  hospitality.  This  in  itself  was 
sometimes  enough  to  stagger  us ;  but  when  we  permitted  our 
selves  to  survey  the  road,  we  were  frequently  appalled.  Upon 
either  side  we  saw  grim  death,  assuming  the  most  horrid 
shapes.  Now  it  was  starvation,  causing  us  to  eat  our  own 
flesh ;  now  we  were  contending  with  the  waves,  and  were 
drowned ;  now  we  were  overtaken,  and  torn  to  pieces  by  the 
fangs  of  the  terrible  bloodhound.  We  were  stung  by  scorpi 
ons,  chased  by  wild  beasts,  bitten  by  snakes,  and  finally,  after 
having  nearly  reached  the  desired  spot — after  swimming  riv- 
eis,  encountering  wild  beasts,  sleeping  in  the  woods,  suffering 
hunger  and  nakedness — we  were  overtaken  by  our  pursuers. 


FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.  61 

and,  in  our  resistance,  we  were  shot  dead  upon  the  spot !     I 
say,  this  picture  sometimes  appalled  us,  and  made  us 

'Rather  bear  those  ills  we  had, 
Than  fly  to  others  that  we  knew  not  of.'" 

But,  thanks  to  a  kind  Providence,  he  attempted, 
and  successfully,  to  fly  from  his  oppressors.  The 
mode  of  his  flight  he  prudently  says  little  about,  for 
fear  of  injuring  the  chances  for  escape  of  thousands 
still  in  bondage.  He  settled  down  in  Xew  Bedford, 
got  married,  and  went  quietly  at  work.  As  yet  no 
one  had  discovered  the  wonderful  genius  which  dwelt 
beneath  his  dark  skin.  He  had  enjoyed  wretched 
opportunities  for  information  ;  his  education  was  ne 
cessarily  exceedingly  limited,  and  after  he  came  to 
reside  in  New  Bedford,  he  was  obliged  to  support 
himself  and  wife  by  manual  labor,  and  of  course  had 
little  time  to  devote  to  mental  toil. 

In  the  month  of  August,  1841,  an  anti-slavery 
meeting  was  held  in  Xantucket.  Some  of  the  most 
eloquent  anti-slavery  orators  were  present,  and  in  an 
humble  place  sat  Frederick  Douglas,  beside  a  dear 
friend.  He  was  known  to  but  few,  and  they  knew 
him  simply  as  a  poor  fugitive.  ]STot  one  man  of  all 
those  present  had  the  remotest  idea  that  in  the  per 
son  of  the  poor  negro  they  beheld  an  orator.  At 
length  a  friend  urged  him  to  get  up  and  tell  his  story. 
It  was  common  in  anti-slavery  meetings  for  fugitives. 


MODERN   AGITATORS. 

in  their  broken,  illiterate  way,  to  tell  of  their  suffer 
ings,  that  northern  men  and  women  might  know  the 
character  of  negro  slavey.  Urged  vehemently, 
Douglass  ascended  the  platform,  and  with  a  trem 
bling  voice  commenced.  But  in  a  few  moments  fear 
of  his  audience  vanished,  and  he  poured  forth  a  tor 
rent  of  burning  eloquence,  such  as  the  majority  pres 
ent  never  before  had  heard.  His  voice  and  action 
were  natural,  his  language  was  intensely  eloquent, 
and  his  whole  bearing  that  of  a  great  orator.  The 
audience  was  astounded  ;  it  seemed  almost  miracu 
lous,  that  an  ignorant  slave  should  possess  such 
powers. 

Few  living  orators  surpass  Frederick  Douglass  in 
declamatory  eloquence.  He  is  not  so  argumentative, 
so  logical,  as  many  of  his  cotemporaries,  but  few  liv 
ing  men  can  produce  a  more  powerful  impression 
upon  an  audience  than  he.  His  manner  is  wonder 
fully  eloquent,  and  his  language  is  copious  and  im 
pressive.  He  stands  before  an  audience  a  natural 
orator,  like  the  African  Cinque,  who,  without  the  aid 
of  the  schools,  pours  forth  with  burning  zeal  the 
thoughts  which  crowd  his  brain.  His  voice  is  good, 
his  form  is  manly  and  graceful,  and  his  hot  words 
leap  forth  clothed  with  beauty  and  power.  He  is 
bold  in  his  imagery  ;  his  pictures  are  at  times  gor 
geously  beautiful,  but  are  always  full  of  a  tropical 


FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.  #3 

heat.  It  is  perhaps  his  principal  fault — his  tendency 
to  paint  too  deeply,  sometimes  to  exaggeration. 

Mr.  Douglass  is  a  powerful  writer,  but  we  confess 
that  we  think  he  erred  in  attempting  to  maintain  a 
weekly  journal.  We  do  not  mean  that  his  paper  is 
not  an  excellent,  and.  often  an  eloquent  one,  but  na 
ture  intended  Douglass  for  an  orator — not  to  be  an 
editor.  As  an  orator,  he  has  few  superiors  in  this  or 
any  other  country,  and  it  seems  to  us  that  he  cannot 
do  full  justice  to  himself  as  an  orator  while  attempt 
ing  to  edit  a  newspaper. 

It  is  impossible  for  us  to  give  the  reader  any  true 
idea  of  the  eloquence  of  Mr.  Douglass  by  quoting 
from  his  reported  speeches.  His  best  ones  never 
were  reported,  and  even  if  they  were,  without  his 
presence,  his  impassioned  manner,  they  would  con 
vey  an  inadequate  idea  of  his  oratorical  powers. 
Nevertheless,  we  will  give  a  few  brief  extracts  from 
his  speeches.  The  first  is  upon 

THE  SLAVE. 

The  slave  is  a  man,  "  the  image  of  God,"  but  "a  little  lower 
than  the  angels  ;"  possessing  a  soul  eternal  and  indestructible; 
capable  of  endless  happiness  or  immeasurable  woe  ;  a  creature 
of  hopes  and  fears,  of  affections  and  passions,  of  joys  and  sor 
rows  ;  and  he  is  endowed  with  those  mysterious  powers  by 
which  man  soars  above  the  things  of  time  and  sense,  and  grasps 
with  undying  tenacity  the  elevating  and  sublimely  gloiiousidea 


64:  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

jf  a  God.  It  is  such  a  being  that  is  smitten  and  blasted.  The 
first  work  of  slavery  is  to  mar  and  deface  those  characteristics 
of  its  victims  which  distinguish  men  from  things,  and  persons 
from  property.  Its  first  aim  is  to  destroy  all  sense  of  high 
moral  and  religious  responsibility.  It  reduces  man  to  a  mere 
machine.  It  cuts  him  off  from  his  Maker,  it  hides  from  him 
the  laws  of  God,  and  leaves  him  to  grope  his  way  from  time 
to  eternity  in  the  dark,  under  the  arbitrary  and  despotic  con 
trol  of  a  frail,  depraved,  and  sinful  fellow-man. 

As  the  serpent-charmer  of  India  is  compelled  to  extract  the 
deadly  teeth  of  his  venomous  prey  before  he  is  able  to  handle 
him  with  impunity,  so  the  slave-holder  must  strike  down  the 
conscience  of  the  slave,  before  he  can  obtain  the  entire  mastery 
over  his  victim. 

It  is,  then,  the  first  business  of  the  enslaver  of  men  to  blunt, 
deaden,  and  destroy  the  central  principle  of  human  responsibil 
ity.  Conscience  is  to  the  individual  soul  and  society  what  the 
law  of  gravitation  is  to  the  universe.  It  holds  society  together; 
it  is  the  basis  of  all  trust  and  confidence;  it  is  the  pillar  of  all 
moral  rectitude.  Without  it  suspicion  would  take  the  place 
of  trust ;  vice  would  be  more  than  a  match  for  virtue ;  men 
would  prey  upon  each  other  like  the  wild  beasts ;  earth  would 
become  a  hell. 

Nor  is  slavery  more  adverse  to  the  conscience  than  it  is  to 
the  mind. 

This  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  in  every  state  of  the  Ameri 
can  Union,  where  slavery  exists,  except  the  state  of  Kentucky, 
there  are  laws  absolutely  prohibitory  of  education  among  the 
slaves.  The  crime  of  teaching  a  slave  to  read  is  punishable 


FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.  65 

with  severe  fines  and  imprisonment,  and  in  some  instances  with 
death  itself! 

Nor  are  the  laws  respecting  this  matter  a  dead  letter.  Ca 
ses  may  occur  in  which  they  are  disregarded,  and  a  few  in 
stances  may  be  found  where  slaves  may  have  learned  to  read ; 
but  such  are  isolated  cases,  and  only  prove  the  rule.  The  great 
mass  of  slaveholders  look  upon  education  among  the  slaves  as 
utterly  subversive  of  the  slave  system.  I  well  remember  when 
my  mistress  first  announced  to  my  master  that  she  had  discovered 
that  I  could  read.  His  face  colored  at  once,  with  surprise  and  cha 
grin.  He  said  that  "  I  was  ruined,  and  my  value  as  a  slave  de 
stroyed  ;  that  a  slave  should  know  nothing  but  to  obey  his  mas 
ter  ;  that  to  give  a  negro  an  inch  would  lead  him  to  take  an  ell ; 
that  having  learned  howr  to  read  I  would  soon  want  to  know  how 
to  write  ;  and  that,  by  and  by,  I  would  be  running  away."  *I 
think  my  audience  will  bear  witness  to  the  correctness  of  this 
philosophy,  and  to  the  literal  fulfillment  of  this  prophecy. 

Here  is  an  eloquent  extract  upon 

MAN'S  RIGHT  TO  LIBERTY. 

Indeed,  I  ought  to  state,  what  must  be  obvious  to  all,  prop 
erly  speaking,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  new  truth ;  for  truth, 
like  the  God  whose  attribute  it  is,  is  eternal.  In  this  sense, 
there  is,  indeed,  nothing  new  under  the  sun.  Error  may  be 
properly  designated  as  old  or  new,  since  it  is  but  a  misconcep 
tion,  or  an  incorrect  view  of  the  truth.  Misapprehensions  of 
what  truth  is  have  their" beginnings  and  their  endings.  They 
pass  a'way  as  the  race  move  onward.  But  truth  is  "  from  ever 
lasting  to  everlasting,"  and  can  never  pass  away. 


66  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

Such  is  the  truth  of  man's  right  to  liberty.  It  existed  in  the 
very  idea  of  man's  creation.  It  was  his  even  before  he  com 
prehended  it.  He  was  created  in  it,  endowed  with  it,  and  it 
can  never  be  taken  from  him.  No  laws,  no  statutes,  no  com 
pacts,  no  covenants,  no  compromises,  no  constitutions,  can  ab 
rogate  or  destroy  it.  It  is  beyond  the  reach  of  the  strongest 
earthly  arm,  and  smiles  at  the  ravings  of  tyrants  from  its  hi 
ding-place  in  the  bosom  of  God.  Men  may  hinder  its  exercise 
— they  may  act  in  disregard  of  it — they  are  even  permitted  to 
war  against  it ;  but  they  fight  against  heaven,  and  their  career 
must  be  short,  for  Eternal  Providence  will  speedily  vindicate 
the  right. 

The  existence  of  this  right  is  self-evident.  It  is  written  upon 
all  the  powers  and  faculties  of  man.  The  desire  for  it  is  the 
deepest  and  strongest  of  all  the  powers  of  the  human  soul. 
Earth,  sea,  and  air — great  nature,  with  her  thousand  voices, 
proclaims  it. 

In  the  language  of  Addison  we  may  apostrophize  it : 

"Oh  Liberty!  them  goddess,  heavenly  bright, 
Profuse  of  bliss,  and  pregnant  with  delight! 
Thou  mak'st  the  glowing  face  of  nature  gay, 
Giv'st  beauty  to  the  sun,  and  pleasure  to  the  day." 

I  have  said  that  the  right  to  liberty  is  self-evident.  No  ar 
gument,  no  researches  into  mouldy  records,  no  learned  disqui 
sitions,  are  necessary  to  establish  it.  To  assert  it,  is  to  call 
forth  a  sympathetic  response  from  every  human  heart,  and  to 
*end  a  thrill  of  joy  and  gladness  round  the  world.  Tyrants, 
oppressors,  and  slaveholders  are  stunned  by  its  utterance; 
while  the  oppressed  and  enslaved  of  all  lands  hail  it  as  an  an- 


FREDERICK  DOUGLASS  67 

gel  of  deliverance.  Its  assertion  in  Russia,  in  Austria,  in  Egypt, 
in  fifteen  states  of  the  American  Union,  is  a  crime.  In  the  ha 
rems  of  Turkey,  and  on  the  southern  plantations  of  Carolina, 
it  is  alike  prohibited  ;  for  the  guilty  oppressors  of  every  clime 
understand  its  truth,  and  appreciate  its  electric  power. 

A  portion  of  the  citizens  of  Rochester  invited  Mr. 
Douglass,  in  1852,  to  deliver  a  Fourth  of  July  ora 
tion.  He  complied  with  the  request,  and  gave  a 
speech  full  of  passionate,  indignatory  eloquence.  We 
make  two  or  three  extracts  from  it  : 

THE  WHITE  MAX'S  FOURTH  OF  JULY. 

Fellow-citizens,  pardon  me;  allow  me  to  ask,  why  am  I 
called  upon  to  speak  here  to-day  ?  What  have  I,  or  those  I 
represent,  to  do  with  your  national  independence  1  Are  the 
great  principles  of  political  freedom  and  of  natural  justice,  em 
bodied  in  that  declaration  of  independence,  extended  to  us  ? 
and  am  I,  therefore,  called  upon  to  bring  our  humble  offering 
to  the  national  altar,  and  to  confess  the  benefits,  and  express 
devout  gratitude  for  the  blessings  resulting  from  your  indepen 
dence  to  us  ? 

Would  to  God,  both  for  your  sakes  and  ours,  that  an  affirm 
ative  answer  could  be  truthfully  returned  to  these  questions. 
Then  would  my  task  be  light,  and  my  burden  easy  and  delight 
ful.  For  who  is  there  so  cold  that  a  nation's  sympathy  could 
not  warm  him?  Who  so  obdurate  and  dead  to  the  claims  of 
gratitude,  that  would  not  thankfully  acknowledge  such  price 
less  benefits  ?  Who  so  stolid  and  selfish,  that  would  not  give 
h>«  voice  to  swell  the  hallelujahs  of  a  nations's  jubilee,  when 


OS  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

the  chains  of  servitude  had  been  torn  from  his  limbs  ?  I  am 
not  that  man.  In  a  case  like  that,  the  dumb  might  eloquently 
speak,  and  the  "  lame  man  leap  as  an  hart." 

But  such  is  not  the  state  of  the  case.  I  say  it  with  a  sad 
sense  of  the  disparity  between  us.  I  am  not  included  within 
the  pale  of  this  glorious  anniversary  !  Your  high  independence 
only  reveals  the  immeasurable  distance  between  us.  The 
blessings  in  which  you  this  day  rejoice,  are  not  enjoyed  in 
common.  The  rich  inheritance  of  justice,  liberty,  prosperity, 
and  independence,  bequeathed  by  your  fathers,  is  shared  by 
you,  not  by  me.  The  sunlight  that  brought  life  and  healing 
to  you,  has  brought  stripes  and  death  to  me.  This  Fourth  of 
July  is  yours,  not  mine.  You  may  rejoice ;  /  must  mourn.  To 
drag  a  man  in  fetters  into  the  grand,  illuminated  temple  of 
liberty,  and  call  upon  him  to  join  you  in  joyous  anthems,  were 
inhuman  mockery  and  sacrilegious  irony.  Do  you  mean,  cit 
izens,  to  mock  me,  by  asking  me  to  speak  to-day  ?  If  so;  there 
is  a  parallel  to  your  conduct.  And  let  me  warn  you  that  it  is 
dangerous  to  copy  the  example  of  a  nation  whose  crimes,  tow 
ering  up  to  heaven,  were  thrown  down  by  the  breath  of  the 
Almighty,  burying  that  nation  in  irrecoverable  ruin  !  I  can  to 
day  take  up  the  plaintive  lament  of  a  peeled  and  woe-smitten 
people ! 

"By  the  rivers  of  Babylon,  there  we  sat  down.  Yea,  we 
wept  when  we  remembered  Zion.  We  hanged  our  harps  upon 
the  willows  in  the  midst  thereof.  For  there  they  that  carried 
us  away  captive  required  of  us  a  song ;  and  they  who  wasted 
us  required  of  us  mirth,  saying,  Sing  us  one  of  the  songs  of 
Zion.  How  can  we  sing  the  Lord's  song  in  a  strange  land  1 


FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.  69 

If  I  forget  thee,  O  Jerusalem,  let  my  right  hand  forget  her 
cunning.  If  I  do  not  remember  thee,  let  my  tongue  cleave  to 
the  roof  of  my  mouth."  ****** 

To  me  the  American  slave-trade  is  a  terrible  reality. 
When  a  child,  rny  soul  was  often  pierced  with  a  sense  of  its 
horrors.  I  lived  on  Philpot-street,  Fell's  Point,  Baltimore,  and 
have  watched  from  the  wharves  the  slave-ships  in  the  basin, 
anchored  from  the  shore,  with  their  cargoes  of  human  flesh, 
wailing  for  favorable  winds  to  waft  them  down  the  Chesapeake. 
There  was  at  that  time  a  grand  slave-mart  kept  at  the  head  of 
Pratt-strcet,  by  Austin  Woldfolle.  His  agents  were  sent  into 
every  town  and  county  in  Maryland,  announcing  their  arrival 
through  the  papers,  and  on  flaming  '•'•handbills'''  headed  CASH 
FOR  NEGROES.  These  men  were  generally  well  dressed,  and 
very  captivating  in  their  manners.  Ever  ready  to  drink,  to 
treat,  and  to  gamble.  The  fate  of  many  a  slave  has  depended 
upon  the  turn  of  a  single  card ;  and  many  a  child  has  been 
snatched  from  the  arms  of  its  mother,  by  bargains  arranged  in 
a  state  of  brutal  drunkenness. 

The  flesh-mongers  gather  up  their  victims  by  dozens,  and  drive 
them,  chained,  to  the  general  depot  at  Baltimore.  When  a 
sufficient  number  have  been  collected  here,  a  ship  is  chartered 
for  the  purpose  of  conveying  the  forlorn  crew  to  Mobile,  or  to 
New  Orleans.  From  the  slave-prison  to  the  ship,  they  are  usu 
ally  driven  in  the  darkness  of  night ;  for,  since  the  anti-slavery 
agitation,  a  certain  caution  is  observed. 

In  the  deep,  still  darkness  of  midnight,  I  have  been  often 
aroused  by  the  dead,  heavy  footsteps,  and  the  piteous  cries  of 
the  chained  gangs  that  passed  our  door.  The  anguish  of  my 


70  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

boyish  heart  was  intense,  and  I  was  often  consoled,  uhcn  speak 
ing  to  my  mistress  in  the  morning,  to  hear  her  say  that  the 
custom  was  very  wicked ;  that  she  hated  to  hear  the  rattle 
of  the  chains,  and  the  heart-rending  cries.  I  was  glad  f^  find 
one  who  sympathized  with  me  in  my  horror. 

Fellow-citizens,  this  murderous  traffic  is,  to-day,  in  active 
operation  in  this  boasted  republic.  In  the  solitude  of  my  spirit, 
I  see  clouds  of  dust  raised  on  the  highways  of  the  south ;  I  see 
the  bleeding  footsteps ;  I  hear  the  doleful  wail  of  fettered  hu 
manity,  on  the  way  to  the  slave-markets,  where  the  victims  are 
to  be  sold  like  horses,  sheep  and  swine,  knocked  off  to  the  high 
est  bidder.  There  I  see  the  tenderest  ties  ruthlessly  broken  to 
gratify  the  lust,  caprice  and  rapacity  of  the  huvers  and  sellers 
of  men.  My  soul  sickens  at  the  sight. 


What,  to  the  American  slave,  is  your  Fourth  of  July  1  I 
answer:  a  day  that  reveals  to  him,  more  than  all  other  days 
in  the  year,  the  gross  injustice  and  cruelty  to  which  he  is  the 
constant  victim.  To  him,  your  celebration  is  a  sham ;  your 
boasted  liberty,  an  unholy  license ;  your  national  greatness, 
swelling  vanity  ;  your  sounds  of  rejoicing  are  empty  and  heart 
less  ;  your  denunciations  of  tyrants,  brass-fronted  impudence ; 
your  shouts  of  liberty  and  equality,  hollow  mockery ;  your 
prayers  and  hymns,  your  sermons  and  thanksgivings,  with  all 
your  religious  parade  and  solemnity,  are,  to  him,  mere  bombast, 
fraud,  deception,  impiety  and  hypocrisy — a  thin  vail  to  cover 
up  crimes  which  would  disgrace  a  nation  of  savages.  There  is 
not  a  nation  on  the  earth  guilty  of  practices  more  shocking  anc 


FREDERICK  DOUGLASS.  71 

bloody,  than  are  the  people  of  these  United  States  at  this  very 
hour." 

Several  years  since,  afew  transatlantic  friends  of  Mr. 
Douglass  raised  the  necessary  funds  to  purchase  his 
freedom  from  his  master,  for,  according  to  the  laws 
of  the  United  States,  the  brilliant  orator  was  the 
property  of  a  Maryland  trafficker  in  human  flesh! 
But  for  this,  Mr.  Douglass,  to-day,  would  be  in  immi 
nent  danger  of  seizure  and  reenslavement.  His  ge 
nius  would  avail  him  nothing — were  he  a  Cicero  or 
Demosthenes,  a  human  brute  would  have  the  legal 
right  to  horsewhip  him  into  subjection. 

To  those  foolish  people  who  contend  that  the  Afri 
can  race  is  essentially  a  brute  race,  and  far  inferior 
to  any  other  existing,  we  commend  Frederick  Doug 
lass.  He  is  perfectly  competent  to  defend  his  race, 
and  is  himself  an  argument  that  cannot,  be  refuted, 
in  favor  of  the  capability  of  the  negro  race  for  the 
highest  degree  of  refinement  and  intellectuality.  The 
more  such  men  his  race  can  produce,  the  sooner  the 
day  of  its  freedom  will  come.  The  sooner  will  the 
free  blacks  of  the  north  rise  to  an  equality  with  the 
-whites.  That  singular  and  horrible  prejudice  against 
color,  which  pervades  all  classes,  and  which  not  even 
the  religion  of  the  day  has  affected,  will  vanish,  when, 
as  a  class,  the  negroes  are  not  only  industrious  and 
virtuous,  but  distinguish  themselves  for  their  love  of 


72  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

learning  and  the  fine  arts.  We  mean  no  excuse  for 
the  negro-hating  population  of  this  country,  but  sim 
ply  state  a  fact  which  black  men  should  ponder. 
Every  negro  who  acts  well  his  part,  is  assisting  his 
race  to  rise  from  its  degrading  enthrallment. 


HARRIET  BEECHER  STOWE. 

WE  have  no  new  information  to  communicate  to 
the  reader  respecting  the  history  of  Mrs.  Stowe,  nei 
ther  do  we  hope  to  make  any  profound  criticisms 
upon  her  remarkable  volume,  and  yet  we  cannot,  in 
such  a  series  of  sketches  as  this,  wholly  pass  her  by. 
And  so,  though  hundreds,  here  and  in  Europe,  have 
written  about  her,  praised  her,  blamed  her,  criticised 
her  great  work  with  acuteness,  we  will  venture  to 
make  her  the  subject  of  an  article. 

Mrs.  Stowe  was  born  in  Litchfield,  Connecticut, 
and  is  a  little  more  than  forty  years  of  age.  She  re 
ceived  an  excellent  education  and  a  great  deal  of  en 
ergy  of  character  from  her  parents.  They  removed 
to  Boston  when  she  was  young,  and  there  she  en 
joyed  very  superior  advantages  in  the  pursuit  of 
knowledge.  She  commenced  her  career  of  useful 
ness  as  an  assistant  teacher  in  the  female  school  of 
an  elder  sister  in  Boston.  Her  father  subsequently 
went  to  the  west,  to  preside  over  Lane  Seminary,  and 
Mrs.  Stowe,  with  her  sister,  went  to  Cincinnati,  where 
they  opened  a  school  for  the  education  of  young  la 
dies.  Lane  Seminary  is  near  Cincinnati,  and  in  the 


74  MODERN    AGITATOES. 

course  of  a  few  years,  which  were  devoted  to  teach 
ing,  Harriet  Beecher  was  sought  and  won  by  Calvin 
E.  Stowe,  professor  of  biblical  literature  in  the  semi 
nary,  and  one  of  the  most  accomplished  scholars  in 
the  country.  The  married  couple  took  up  their  resi 
dence  in  one  of  the  buildings  connected  with  the 
seminary,  and  devoted  to  the  use  of  the  professors. 
For  a  long  term  of  years  this  was  the  home  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Stowe.  It  is  not  necessary  for  us  to  give  a 
history  of  the  anti-slavery  excitement  which  at  one 
time  threatened  to  ruin  Lane  Seminary.  It  is  well 
known  that  Cincinnati  was  for  a  long  time  the  thea 
ter  of  violent  agitation  upon  the  question  of  negro 
slavery.  In  and  around  it  the  bitterest,  the  most  un 
principled  enemies  of  an ti -slavery  doctrines  lived — 
and  also  the  warmest  and  most  courageous  advocates 
of  liberty  for  all  men.  For  years,  to  be  an  abolition 
ist  in  Cincinnati,  was  to  be  scorned,  hissed  at,  and 
threatened  with  death.  Mob  law  set  aside  the  con 
stitution,  and  screamed  out  threats  of  vengeance  upon 
meek,  Christ-like  men,  who,  with  a  courage  exceed 
ingly  rare  at  this  day,  asserted  the  truth,  that  u  all 
men  should  be  free."  Anti-slavery  presses  were  de 
stroyed  again  and  again,  and  the  buildings  of  Lane 
Seminary  were  often  in  imminent  danger  of  being 
destroyed,  because  of  the  anti-slavery  reputation  of 
its  scholars  and  professors.  Mrs.  Stowe  could  not 
well  fail  to  see  the  inherent  wickedness  of  an  institu- 


HARRIET    UMKUlItti    S'JOWE.  75 

tion  which  could  only  be  defended  by  drunken  mobs 
with  brick-bats  and  tar  and  feathers. 

The  diabolical  persecution  of  the  abolitionists  won 
them  many  warm  friends,  and  sympathy  for  their 
principles  grew  rapidly  in  thousands  of  hearts.  Sit 
uated  as  Cincinnati  is,  the  friends  of  the  slave  in  its 
vicinity  soon  found  that  they  could  show  their  love 
for  him  in  a  more  excellent  way  than  by  talking. 
Poor  fugitives  from  oppression  were  constantly  cross 
ing  the  Ohio  river,  and  the  abolitionists  banded  to 
gether  and  built  an  "underground  railroad"  to  Can 
ada.  Mrs.  Stowe  could  not,  if  she  had  wished,  es 
cape  from  a  knowledge  of  the  negro  character.  She 
was  often  appealed  to  by  some  weary,  half-starved, 
lashed,  slave-mother  for  food  and  shelter.  She  saw 
time  after  time  the  shy,  painful  look  of  the  fugitive— - 
witnessed  his  joy  at  escape,  or  his  sorrow  at  the 
thought  of  loved  ones  left  behind  in  bondage.  In 
the  course  of  many  years  she  gained,  not  only  a 
knowledge  of  negro  character,  but  of  the  terrible 
atrocities  which  are  perpetrated  upon  slaves  by  bru 
tal  masters.  She  also  had  opportunities  for  knowing 
the  character  of  slave-holders  and  slave-catchers,  for 
hundreds  of  them  were  at  any  time  to  be  found  and 
met  in  Cincinnati.  There  are  many  who  wonder 
how  Mrs.  Stowe  could  gain  the  knowledge  of  negro 
character,  and  of  the  character  of  men  like  Tom  Lo- 
ker  and  Mr.  Shelby,  so  abundantly  displayed  in  her 


76  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

story.  "We  certainly  cannot  be  surprised  that  an  ex 
ceedingly  observing  woman,  after  a  residence  of  fif 
teen  or  twenty  years  in  a  city  commanding  the  trade 
of  slave  states,  and  through  which  thousands  of  slaves 
escaped  during  that  time,  should  learn  the  character 
of  the  slaves  and  their  owners  and  catchers.  Besides, 
Mrs.  Stowe  made  several  visits  into  the  neighboring 
slave  states,  and  became  acquainted  with  slave-mas 
ters  and  mistresses — had  opportunities  to  see  the  pe 
culiar  institution  at  home,  and  its  effects  upon  society. 
For  years  she  calmed  her  fervid  spirit,  and  kept  to 
herself  her  thoughts  upon  the  great  iniquity.  But 
the  tears  of  the  panting  fugitive,  the  thrilling  stories 
of  hair-breadth  escapes,  were  never  forgotten  by  her  ; 
they  were  all  in  her  heart.  At  length  with  her  hus 
band  she  returned  to  the  east. 

The  congress  of  the  United  States  saw  fit,  at  the 
bidding  of  the  slave-power,  to  make  every  man  in  the 
free  states  a  slave-catcher.  The  scenes  which  followed 
the  enactment  of  that  terrible  law  caused  the  story 
of  Uncle  Toirfs  Cabin  to  be  written.  Night  after 
night  Mrs.  Stowe  wept  bitter  tears  over  them,  and 
she  resolved  to  write  a  story  of  slavery  :  the  world 
knows  the  rest. 

Of  Mrs.  Stowe's  personal  appearance  we  have  lit 
tle  to  say.  We  think  no  one  could  mistake  her  for 
an  ordinary  woman.  There  is  a  look  of  conscious 
power  in  her  face.  There  is  strength  of  character 


HARRIET    BEECTTER   STOWK.  77 

expressed  in  it.  She  is  not  a  beautiful  woman,  and 
yet  her  eyes  are  not  often  surpassed  in  beauty.  They 
are  dark  and  dreamy,  and  look  as  if  some  sorrowful 
scene  ever  haunted  her  brain.  In  dress  she  is  very 
plain  and  homely ;  in  manners  gentle,  without  a  par 
ticle  of  false  gentility. 

Previous  to  commencing  in  the  National  Era  her 
great  story  of  Uncle  Tom,  Mrs.  Stowe  had  written 
comparatively  brief  sketches  and  tales,  which  were 
gathered  into  a  little  volume  entitled  "  The  May 
flower"  a  quaint  and  exceedingly  appropriate  name. 
Those  who  have  read  the  little  book  could  not  have 
been  surprised  when  they  read  her  subsequent  and 
more  popular  volume.  For,  though  the  brevity  of 
the  little  stories  and  sketches  in  the  earlier  volume 
precluded  the  possibility  of  eminent  success  in  the 
portraiture  of  individuals,  or  of  great  popularity  for 
the  book,  yet  they  were  executed  with  wonderful  skill. 
To  us,  after  a  fresh  reading  of  the  volume,  with  our 
eyes  yet  wet  with  tears  of  sympathy,  and  our  sides  not 
yet  done  aching  with  laughter,  Uncle  Tom  seems  no 
marvelous  advance  upon  the  Mayflower.  The  one 
was  fragmentary — the  other  whole,  complete.  There 
are  passages  in  the  first,  almost  or  quite  equal  to  any 
thing  in  the  last.  There  are  stories,  though  short, 

O  *  O 

which  are  told  most  admirably.  In  them  we  see 
Mrs.  Stowe's  wonderful  skill  at  sketching  character. 

O 

She  describes  the  old  Puritan  in  such  a  vivid  style, 


78  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

that  he  appears  to  the  reader  as  if  painted  on  canvas 
by  a  master  artist.  There  is,  too,  the  same  tendency 
to  humor  in  these  little  sketches  as  in  Uncle  Torn?s 
Cabin — also  the  same  inimitable  pathos.  We  cannot 
do  better  than  to  copy  one  of  her  sketches.  Those  of 
our  readers  who  have  read  it  once,  will  delight  to  do 
so  again,  and  those  who  have  never  read  it,  will 
thank  us  for  copying  it  here.  It  is  entitled 

"LITTLE  EDWARD." 

Were  any  of  you  born  in  New  England,  in  the  good  old 
catechising,  church-going,  school-going,  orderly  times  ?  If  so, 
you  may  have  seen  my  Uncle  Abel ;  the  most  perpendicular, 
rectangular,  upright,  downright,  good  man  that  ever  labored  six 
days  and  rested  on  the  seventh. 

You  remember  his  hard,  weather-beaten  countenance,  where 
every  line  seemed  drawn  with  "  a  pen  of  iron  and  the  point  of 
a  diamond ; "  his  considerate,  gray  eyes,  that  moved  over  ob 
jects  as  if  it  were  not  best  to  be  in  a  hurry  about  seeing ;  the 
circumspect  opening  and  shutting  of  his  mouth ;  his  down-sit 
ting  and  up-rising,  all  performed  with  conviction  aforethought — 
in  short,  the  whole  ordering  of  his  lifeand  conversation,  which  was, 
according  to  the  tenor  of  the  military  order,  "to  the  right  about 
faee — forward,  march !  "  Now  if  you  supposed,  from  all  this 
triaiigularism  of  exterior,  that  this  good  man  had  nothing  kindly 
within,  you  were  much  mistaken.  You  often  find  the  greem^t 
orass  under  a  snow-drift;  and,  though  my  uncle's  mind  was 
not  exactly  of  the  flower-garden  kind,  still  there  was  an  abun 
dance  of  wholesome  and  kindly  vegetation  there. 


HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE.  7i* 

It  is  true,  he  seldom  laughed  and  never  joked,  himself,  but  no 
man  had  a  more  serious  and  weighty  conviction  of  what  a  good 
joke  was  in  another ;  and  when  some  exceeding  witticism  was 
dispensed  in  his  presence,  you  might  see  Uncle  Abel's  face 
slowly  relax  into  an  expression  of  solemn  satisfaction,  and  he 
would  look  at  the  author  with  a  sort  of  quiet  wonder,  as  if  it 
was  past  his  comprehension  how  such  a  thing  could  come  into 
a  man's  head. 

Uncle  Abel,  too,  had  some  relish  for  the  fine  arts ;  in  proof 
of  which  I  might  adduce  the  pleasure  with  which  he  gazed  at 
the  plates  in  his  family  bible,  the  likeness  whereof  is  neither  in 
heaven,  nor  on  earth,  nor  under  the  earth.  And  he  was  also 
such  an  eminent  musician,  that  he  could  go  through  the  singing- 
book  at  one  sitting,  without  the  least  fatigue,  beating  time  like 
a  windmill  all  the  way. 

He  had,  too,  a  liberal  hand,  though  his  liberality  was  all  by 
the  rule  of  three.  He  did  to  his  neighbor  exactly  as  he  would 
be  done  by ;  he  loved  some  things  in  this  world  very  sincerely  : 
he  loved  his  God  much,  but  he  honored  and  feared  him  more ; 
he  was  exact  with  others,  he  was  more  exact  with  himself,  and 
he  expected  his  God  to  be  more  exact  still. 

Everything  in  Uncle  Abel's  house  was  in  the  same  time,  and 
place,  and  manner,  and  form  from  year's  end  to  year's  end. 
There  was  old  Master  Bose,  a  dog  after  my  uncle's  own  heart, 
who  always  walked  as  if  he  were  studying  .the  multi plication- 
table.  There  was  the  old  clock,  forever  ticking  in  the  kitchen 
corner,  with  a  picture  on  its  face  of  the  sun  forever  setting  be 
hind  a  perpendicular  row  of  poplar  trees.  There  was  the  nev 
er-failing  supply  of  red  peppers  and  onions,  hanging  over  the 


80  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

chimney.  There,  too,  were  the  yearly  hollyhocks  and  morning- 
glories,  blooming  about  the  windows.  There  was  the  "  best 
room,"  with  its  sanded  floor,  the  cupboard  in  one  corner,  with 
its  glass  doors,  the  evergreen  asparagus  bushes  in  the  chimney, 
and  there  was  the  stand,  with  the  bible  and  almanac  on  it,  in 
another  corner.  There,  too,  was  Aunt  Betsey,  who  never 
looked  any  older,  because  she  always  looked  as  old  as  she 
could ;  who  always  dried  her  catnip  and  wormwood  the  last 
of --September,  and  began  to  clean  house  the  first  of  May.  In 
short,  this  was  the  land  of  continuance.  Old  time  never  took 
it  into  his  head  to  practice  either  addition,  or  subtraction,  or 
multiplication  on  its  sum  total. 

This  Aunt  Betsey  aforenamed,  was  the  neatest  and  most  ef 
ficient  piece  of  human  machinery  that  ever  operated  in  forty 
places  at  once.  She  was  always  everywhere,  predominating 
over,  and  seeing  to  everything  ;  and  though  my  uncle  had  been 
twice  married,  Aunt  Betse'ys  rule  and  authority  had  never  been 
broken.  She  reigned  over  his  wives  when  living,  and  reigned 
after  them  when  dead,  and  so  seemed  likely  to  reign  on  to  the 
end  of  -the  chapter.  But  my  uncle's  latest  wife  left  Aunt  Bet 
sey  a  much  less  tractable  subject  than  ever  before  had  fallen  to 
her  lot.  Little  Edward  was  the  child  of  my  uncle's  old  age, 
and  a  brighter,  merrier  little  blossom  never  grew  on  the  verge 
of  an  avalanche.  He  had  been  committed  to  the  nursing  of  his 
grandmamma  till  he  had  arrived  at  the  age  of  ^discretion,  and 
then  my  old  uncle's  heart  so  yearned  for  him  that  he  was  sent 
for  home. 

His  introduction  into  the  family  excited  a  terrible  sensation. 
Never  wras  there  such  a  contcmner  of  dignities,  such  a  violator 


HARRIET    BEECHKR    STOAVK.  81 

of  high  places  and  sanctities,  as  this  very  Master  Edward.  It 
was  all  in  vain  to  try  to  teach  him  decorum.  He  was  the  most 
outrageously  merry  elf  that  ever  shook  a  head  of  curls ;  and 
it  was  all  the  same  to  him  whether  it  was  "  SallcC  day"  or  any 
other  day,  he  laughed  and  frolicked  with  everybody  and  every 
thing  that  came  in  his  way,  not  even  excepting  his  solemn  old 
father ;  and  when  you  saw  him,  with  his  fair  arms  around  the 
old  man's  neck,  and  his  bright  blue  eyes  and  blooming  cheek- 
pressing  out  beside  the  bleak  face  of  Uncle  Abel,  you  might 
fancy  you  saw  spring  caressing  winter.  Uncle  Abel's  meta 
physics  were  sorely  puzzled  by  this  sparkling,  dancing  com 
pound  of  spirit  and  matter ;  nor  could  he  devise  any  method 
of  bringing  it  into  any  reasonable  shape,  for  he  did  mischief 
with  an  energy  and  perseverance  that  was  truly  astonishing. 
Once  he  scoured  thp  floor  with  Aunt  Betsey's  very  best  Scotch 
snuff;  once  he  washed  up  the  health  with  Uncle  Abel's  most 
immaculate  clothes-brush ;  and  once  he  was  found  trying  to 
make  Bose  wear  his  father's  spectacles.  In  short,  there  was  no 
use,  except  the  right  one,  to  which  he  did  not  put  everything 
that  came  in  his  way. 

But  Uncle  Abel  was  most  of  all  puzzled  to  know  what  to  do 
with  him  on  the  Sabbath,  for  on  that  day  Master  Edward 
seemed  to  exert  himself  to  be  particularly  diligent  and  enter 
taining.  "Edward! — Edward  must  not  play  Sunday !''  his 
father  would  call  out ;  and  then  Edward  would  hold  up  his 
curly  head,  and  look  as  grave  as  the  catechism  ;  but  in  three 
minutes  you  would  see  "  pussy  "  scampering  through  the  "  best 
room,"  with  Edward  at  her  heels,  to  the  entire  discomposure 
of  all  devotion  in  Aunt  Betsey  and  all  others  in  authority. 
D*  6 


S2  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

At  length  my  uncle  came  to  the  conclusion  that  "it  wasn't 
in  natur'  to  teach  him  any  better,"  and  that  "he  could  no  more 
keep  Sunday  than  the  brook  down  in  the  lot."  My  poor  uncle ! 
he  did  not  know  what  was  the  matter  with  his  heart,  but  cer 
tain  it  was,  he  lost  all  faculty  of  scolding,  when  Little  Edward 
was  in  the  case,  and  he  would  rub  his  spectacles  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  longer  than  common,  when  Aunt  Betsey  was  detailing 
his  witticisms  and  clever  doings. 

In  process  of  time  our  hero  had  compassed  his  third  year, 
and  arrived  at  the  dignity  of  going  to  school.  He  went  illus 
triously  through  the  spelling-book,  and  then  attacked  the  cate 
chism  ;  went  from  "  man's  chief  end "  to  the  "  requirin's  and 
forbiddin's"  in  a  fortnight,  and  at  last  carne  home  inordinately 
merry,  to  tell  his  father  that  he  had  got  to  "  amen."  After 
this,  he  made  a  regular  business  of  saying  over  the  whole  every 
Sunday  evening,  standing  with  his  hands  folded  in  front,  and 
his  checked  apron  folded  down,  occasionally  glancing  round  to 
see  if  pussy  gave  proper  attention.  And,  being  of  a  practi 
cally  benevolent  turn  of  mind,  he  made  several  commendable 
efforts  to  teach  Bose  the  catechism,  in  which  he  succeeded  as 
well  as  might  be  expected.  In  short,  without  further  detail, 
Master  Edward  bade  fair  to  become  a  literary  wonder. 

But  alas  for  poor  Little  Edward !  his  merry  dance  was  soon 
over.  A  day  came  when  he  sickened,  Aunt  Betsey  tried  her 
whole  herbarium,  but  in  vain  :  he  grew  rapidly  worse  and 
worse.  His  father  sickened  in  heart,  but  said  nothing ;  ho 
only  stayed  by  his  bedside  day  and  night,  trying  all  means  to 
save  with  affecting  pertinacity. 


HARTITET   EEECftER    STOWE.  83 

"  Can't  you  think  of  anything  more,  doctor  ?  "  said  he  to 
the  physician,  when  all  had  been  tried  in  vain. 

"  Nothing,"  answered  the  physician. 

A  momentary  convulsion  passed  over  my  uncle's  face. 
"  The  will  of  the  Lord  be  done,"  said  he,  almost  with  a  groan 
of  anguish. 

Just  at  that  moment  a  ray  of  the  setting  sun  pierced  the 
checked  curtains,  and  gleamed  like  an  angel's  smile  across  the 
face  of  the  little  sufferer.  He  woke  from  troubled  sleep. 
"  Oh,  dear !  I  am  so  sick  ! "  he  gasped,  feebly.  His  father 
raised  him  in  his  arms  ;  he  breathed  easier,  and  looked  up  with 
a  grateful  smile.  Just  then  his  old  playmate,  the  cat,  crossed 
the  room.  "  There  goes  pussy,"  said  he ;  "  Oh,  dear !  I  shall 
never  play  with  pussy  any  more." 

At  that  moment  a  deadly  change  passed  over  his  face.  He 
looked  up  in  his  father's  face  with  an  imploring  expression,  and 
put  out  his  hands  as  if'  for  help.  There  was  one  moment  of 
agony,  and  then  the  sweet  features  all  settled  into  a  smile  of 
peace,  and  "  mortality  was  swallowed  up  of  life." 

My  uncle  laid  him  down,  and  looked  one  moment  at  his 
beautiful  face.  It  was  too  much  for  his  principles,  too  much 
for  his  consistency,  and  "  he  lifted  up  his  voice  and  wept." 

The  next  morning  was  the  Sabbath— the  funeral  day — and 
it  rose  with  "  breath  all  incense  and  with  cheek  all  bloom." 
Uncle  Abel  was  as  calm  and  collected  as  ever,  but  in  his  face 
there  was  a  sorrow-stricken  appearance  touching  to  behold.  I 
remember  him  at  family  prayers,  as  he  bent  over  the  great 
bible  and  began  the  psalm,  "  Lord,  thou  has  been  our  dwelling- 
place  in  all  generations."  Apparently  he  was  touched  by  the 


84  MODERi*  AGITATORS. 

melancholy  splendor  of  the  poetry,  for  after  reading  a  few  ver 
ses  he  stopped.  There  was  a  dead  silence,  interrupted  only 
by  the  tick  of  the  clock.  He  cleared  his  voice  repeatedly,  and 
tried  to  go  on,  but  in  vain.  He  closed  the  book  and  kneeled 
down  to  prayer.  The  energy  of  sorrow  broke  through  his 
usual  formal  reverence,  and  his  language  flowed  forth  with  a 
deep  and  sorrowful  pathos  which  I  shall  never  forget.  The 
God  <-o  much  reverenced,  so  much  feared,  seemed  to  draw 
near  to  him  as  a  friend  and  comforter,  his  refuge  and  strength. 
"a  very  present  help  in  time  of  trouble." 

My  uncle  rose,  and  I  saw  him  walk  to  the  room  of  the 
departed  one.  He  uncovered  the  face.  It  was  set  with  the 
seal  of  death,  but  oh!  how  surpassingly  lovely  !  The  brilliancy 
of  life  was  gone,  but  that  pure,  transparent  face  was  touched 
with  a  mysterious,  triumphant  brightness,  which  seemed  like  the 
dawning  of  heaven. 

My  uncle  looked  long  and  earnestly.  He  felt  the  beauty 
of  what  he  gazed  on ;  his  heart  was  softened,  but  he  had  no 
words  for  his  feelings.  He  left  the  room  unconsciously,  and 
stood  in  the  front  door.  The  morning  was  bright ;  the  bells 
were  ringing  for  church  ;  the  birds  were  singing  merrily,  and 
the  pet  squirrel  of  Little  Edward  was  frolicking  about  the  door. 
My  uncle  watched  him  as  he  ran  first  up  one  tree,  and  then 
down  and  up  another,  and  then  over  the  fence,  whisking  his 
brush,  and  chattering  just  as  if  nothing  was  the  matter. 

With  a  deep  sigh  Uncle  Abel  broke  forth  :  "  How  happy 
that  cretur1  is  !  Well,  the  Lord's  will  be  done  !  " 

That  day  the  dust  was  committed  to  dust,  amid  the  lamenta 
tions  of  all  who  had  known  Little  Ed  ward.  Years  have  passed 


HARRIET    BEECIIER   8TOWE.  85 

since  then,  and  all  that  is  mortal  of  my  uncle  has  long  since 
been  gathered  to  his  fathers,  but  his  just  and  upright  spirit  has 
entered  the  glorious  liberty  of, the  sons  of  God.  Yes,  the  good 
man  may  have  had  opinions  which  the  philosophical  scorn, 
weaknesses  at  which  the  thoughtless  smile;  butdeath  shall  change 
him  into  all  that  is  enlightened,  wise,  and  refined  ;  for  he  shall 
awake  in  "His"  likeness,  and  be  satisfied. 

There  are  persons  who  pretend  to  believe  that  Mi's. 
Stowe's  story  of  Uncle  Tom  is  not  a  work  of  remark 
able  genius  and  power.     Its  success,  they  say,  arose 
from  the  desire  of  the  people  of  the  northern  states 
and  Europe  to  hear  harrowing  tales  of  negro  slavery. 
We  confess  that  for  such  critics  we  have  little  char 
ity.     Their  prejudices  lead  them  astray — or  they  are 
incapable  of  making  a  just  criticism.     What  is  the 
reason  that  anti-slavery  tales,  written  and  published 
long  before  that  by  Mrs.  Stowe,  did  not  meet  with 
great  success?      Several  had   been   published,   but 
though  moderately  well  written,  the  public  did  not 
go   enthusiastic  over   them.     But   when    a   tale   of 
slavery  came  to  be  written  in  a  masterly  manner, 
full  of  pathos,  humor  and  eloquence,  it  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  public.     Friends  of  the  slave  first 
read  it,  and,  discovering  that  it  was,  aside  from  its 
teachings,  the  most  remarkable  story  of  the  time,  they 
called  the  attention  of  the  great  world  of  indifferent 
men  and  women  to  the  fact.     The  story  flew  on  the 


86  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

wings  of  the  wind.  Millions  cried  over  it,  who  had 
never  before  bestowed  a  thought  upon  the  negro 
slave  ;  it  met  with  a  success,  such  perhaps  as  no  other 
single  volume,  since  the  art  of  printing  was  invented, 
can  boast.  And  can  men  with  brains  be  persuaded 
that  a  volume  not  remarkable  for  its  power  of  ex 
citing  the  sympathies  of  the  people  accomplished  this  ? 
Let  superannuated  women  believe  it,  and  no  others. 
TTnclt  Town's  Cabin  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
volumes  of  the  century,  and  its  authoress  will  go 
down  to  posterity,  not  merely  as  a  philanthropist,  but 
as  a  great  writer,  possessed  of  a  most  brilliant  genius. 
The  leading  critics  of  Europe  have  already  recorded 
this  as  their  decision,  as  well  as  all  the  competent 
and  unprejudiced  ones  in  this  country.  There  are 
scattered  through  the  volume  some  of  the  finest 
pictures  in  the  English  language.  When  Eliza 
heard  that  her  boy  was  sold,  she  "  crept  stealthily 
away."  How  vividly  in  the  following  extract  is  her 
agony  portrayed : 

"  '  Pale,  shivering,  with  rigid  features  and  compressed  lips, 
she  looked  an  entirely  altered  being  from  the  soft  and  timid 
creature  she  had  been  hitherto.  She  moved  cautiously  along 
the  entry,  paused  one  moment  at  her  mistress'  door,  raised  her 
hands  in  mute  appeal  to  heaven,  and  then  turned  and  glided 
into  her  own  room.  It  was  a  quiet,  neat  apartment,  on  the 
same  floor  with  her  mistress.  There  was  the  pleasant,  sunny 
window,  where  she  had  often  sat  singing  at  her  sewing ;  there 


HARRIET   BEKCUER   PTOWE.  87 

a  little  case  of  books,  and  various  little  fancy  articles,  ranged 
by  them,  the  gifts  of  Christmas  holidays ;  there  was  her  sim 
ple  wardrobe  in  the  closet  and  in  the  drawers ;  here  was,  in 
short,  her  home ;  and,  on  the  whole,  a  happy  one  it  had  been 
to  her.  But  there,  on  the  bed,  lay  her  slumbering  boy,  his 
long  curls  falling  negligently  around  his  unconscious  face,  his 
rosy  mouth  half  open,  his  little  fat  hands  thrown  out  over  the 
bed-clothes,  and  a  smile  spread  like  a  sunbeam  over  his  whole 
face. 

'"  Poor  boy  !  poor  fellow ! '  said  Eliza ;  '  they  have  sold  you! 
but  your  mother  will  save  you  yet ! ' 

"  No  tear  dropped  over  that  pillow ;  in  such  straits  as  these, 
the  heart  has  no  tears  to  give — it  drops  only  blood,  bleeding 
itself  away  in  silence." 

It  is  impossible  in  our  limited  space  to  give  by  ex 
tracts  any  adequate  idea  of  the  graphic  power  of  the 
story,  and  it  is  unnecessary,  for  everybody  has  read 
it.  But  there  are  passages  which  we  often  delight 
to  read — and  a  few  of  them,  gems,  we  must  again 
look  at.  The  episode  of  the  slave-mother,  cheated 
by  a  brutal  master  of  her  husband,  and  inveigled 
aboard  a  steamboat  going  down  the  Ohio,  is  one  of 
these  passages : 

"  The  woman  looked  calm  as  the  boat  went  on,  and  a  beau 
tiful,  soft,  summer  breeze  passed  like  a  compassionate  spirit 
over  her  head — the  gentle  breeze  that  never  inquires  whether 
the  brow  is  dusky  or  lair  that  it  fans.  And  she  saw  sunshine 
sparkling  on  the  water,  in  golden  ripples,  and  heard  gay  voices, 


88  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

full  of  ease  and  pleasure,  talking  around  her  everywhere ;  but 
her  heart  lay  as  if  a  great  stone  had  fhllni  on  it.  Her  baby 
raised  himself  up  against  her,  and  stroked  her  cheeks  with  his 
little  hands;  and,  springing  up  and  down,  crowing  and  chat 
ting,  seemed  determined  to  arouse  her.  She  strained  him  sud 
denly  and  tightly  in  her  arms,  and  slowly  one  tear  after  an 
other  fell  on  his  wondering,  unconscious  face;  and  gradually 
she  seemed,  but  little  by  little,  to  grow  calmer,  and  busied 
herself  with  tending  and  nursing  him." 

The  wretched  mother  lays  her  babe  down  to 
sleep,  and  a  devil  in  human  form  steals  that,  too, 
from  her : 

"  '  Lucy,'  said  the  trader,  '  your  cliild  's  gone  ;  you  may  as 
well  know  it  first  as  last.  You  see,  I  know'd  you  could  n't 
take  him  down  south  ;  and  I  got  a  chance  to  sell  him  to  a  first- 
rate  family,  that  '11  raise  him  better  than  you  can.' 

"  But  the  woman  did  not  scream.  The  shot  had  passed  too 
straight  and  direct  through  her  heart  for  a  cry  or  tear.  Diz 
zily  she  sat  down.  Her  slack  hands  fell  lifeless  by  her  side. 
Her  eyes  looked  straight  forward,  but  she  saw  nothing.  All 
the  noise  and  hum  of  the  boat,  the  groaning  of  the  machinery, 
mingled  dreamily  to  her  bewildered  ear;  and  the  poor,  dumb- 
stricken  heart  had  neither  cry  nor  tear  to  show  for  its  utter 
misery.  She  was  quite  calm." 

But  the  following  paragraphs  are  the  finest  in  this 
tragical  episode  ;  indeed,  it  is  as  touching  a  descrip 
tion  as  we  ever  saw.  Note  how  the  beauty  of  the 


HARRIET   BEECHER    STOWE.  £9 

night,  its  mysterious  solemnity,  and  the  agony  of  the 
one  poor  heart  are  commingled  : 

"  Night  came  on — night,  calm,  unmoved,  and  glorious,  shi 
ning  down  with  her  innumerable  and  solemn  angel  eyes,  twink 
ling,  beautiful,  but  silent.  There  was  no  speech  nor  language, 
no  pitying  voice  nor  helping  hand,  from  that  distant  sky.  One 
after  another  the  voices  of  business  or  pleasure  died  away ;  all 
on  the  boat  were  sleeping,  and  the  ripples  at  the  prow  were 
plainly  heard.  Tom  stretched  himself  out  on  a  box,  and  there, 
as  he  lay,  he  heard,  ever  and  anon,  a  smothered  sob  or  cry 
from  the  prostrate  creature — '  O !  what  shall  I  do  !  O  Lord ' 
O  good  Lord,  do  help  me  ! '  and  so,  ever  and  anon,  until  the 
murmur  died  away  in  silence. 

"At  midnight  Tom  waked  with  a  sudden  start.  Something 
black  passed  quickly  by  him  to  the  side  of  the  boat,  and  he 
heard  a  splash  in  the  water.  No  one  else  saw  or  heard  any 
thing,  lie  raised  his  head — the  woman's  place  was  vacant ! 
He  got  up,  and  sought  about  him  in  vain.  The  poor  bleeding 
heart  was  still  at  last,  and  the  river  rippled  and  dimpled  just  as 
brightly  as  if  it  had  not  closed  above  it." 

"We  must  quote  also  the  inimitable  description  of 

"LITTLE  EVA." 

Her  form  was  the  perfection  of  childish  beauty,  without  its 
usual  chubbiness  and  squareness  of  outline.  There  was  about 
it  an  undulating  and  aerial  grace,  such  as  one  might  dream  of 
for  some  mythic  and  allegorical  being.  Her  face  was  remark 
able  less  for  its  perfect  beauty  of  feature  than  for  a  singular  and 


MODERN    AGITATORS. 

divamy  earnestness  of  expression,  which  made  the  ideal  start 
•u  hen  they  looked  at  her,  mid  by  which  the  dullest  and  most 
ilb'teral  were  impressed,  without  exactly  knowing  why.  The 
shape  of  her  head  and  the  turn  of  her  neck  and  bust  were 
particularly  noble,  and  the  long  golden-brown  hair  that  floated 
like  a  cloud  around  it,  the  deep,  spiritual  gravity  of  her  violet- 
blue  eyes,  shaded  by  heavy  fringes  of  golden  brown  —  all 
marked  her  out  from  other  children,  and  made  every  one  turn 
to  look  after  her,  as  she  glided  hither  and  thither  on  the  boat. 
Nevertheless,  the  little  one  was  not  what  you  would  have  called 
either  a  grave  child  or  a  sad  one.  On  the  contrary,  an  airy 
and  innocent  playfulness  seemed  to  flicker  like  the  shadow  of 
summer  leaves  over  her  childish  face,  and  around  her  buoyant 
figure.  She  was  always  in  motion,  always  with  a  half  smile 
on  her  rosy  mouth,  flying  hither  and  thither,  with  an  undula 
ting  and  cloud-like  tread,  singing  to  herself  as  she  moved,  as  in 
a  happy  dream.  Her  father  and  female  guardian  were  inces 
santly  busy  in  pursuit  of  her,  but  when  caught,  she  melted  from 
them  again  like  a  summer  cloud ;  and  as  no  word  of  chiding  or  re 
proof  ever  fell  on  her  ear  for  whatever  she  chose  to  do,  she  pur 
sued  her  own  way  all  over  the  boat.  Always  dressed  in  white, 
she  seemed  to  move  like  a  shadow  through  all  sorts  of  places, 
without  contracting  spot  or  stain ;  and  there  was  not  a  corner 
or  nook,  above  or  below,  where  those  fairy  footsteps  had  not 
glided,  and  that  visionary  golden  head,  with  its  deep  blue  eyes, 
fleeted  along. 

The  fireman,  as  he  looked  up  from  his  sweaty  toil,  some 
times  found  those  eyes  looking  wonderingly  into  the  raging 
depths  of  the  furnace,  and  fearfully  and  pityingly  at  him,  as 


HARRIET   BEECITER   STOWE.  91 

if  she  thought  him  in  some  dreadful  danger.  Anon  the  steers 
man  at  the  wheel  paused  and  smiled,  as  the  picture-like  head 
gleamed  through  the  window  of  the  round-house,  and  in  a  mo 
ment  was  gone  again.  A  thousand  times  a  day  rough  voices 
blessed  her,  and  smiles  of  unwonted  softness  stole  over  hard 
faces  as  she  passed  ;  and  when  she  tripped  fearlessly  over 
dangerous  places,  rough,  sooty  hands  were  stretched  involunta 
rily  out  to  save  her  and  smooth  her  path. 

Here  is  something  entirely  different,  and  yet  ex 
ecuted  with  wonderful  skill,  as  any  one  can  attest 
who  has  lived  in  Xew  England.  It  is  a  picture  of 

"A  NEW  ENGLAND  FARM-HOUSE." 

Whoever  has  traveled  in  the  New  England  states  will  re 
member,  in  some  cool  village,  the  large  farm-house,  with  its 
clean-swept,  grassy  yard,  shaded  by  the  dense  and  massive  fo 
liage  of  the  sugar-maple  ;  and  remember  the  air  of  order  and 
stillness,  of  perpetuity  and  unchanging  repose,  that  seemed  to 
breath  over  the  whole  place.  Nothing  lost,  or  out  of  order  ; 
not  a  picket  loose  in  the  fence,  not  a  particle  of  litter  in  the 
turfy  yard,  with  its  clumps  of  lilac  bushes  growing  up  under 
the  windows.  Within  he  will  remember  wide,  clean  rooms, 
where  nothing  ever  seems  to  be  doing  or  going  to  be  done, 
where  everything  is  once  and  forever  rigidly  in  place,  and 
where  all  household  arrangements  move  with  the  punctual  ex 
actness  of  the  old  clock  in  the  comer.  In  the  family  "  keeping- 
room,"  as  it  is  termed,  he  will  remember  the  staid,  respectable 
old  book-case,  with  its  glass  doors,  where  Rollin's  History,  Mil- 


92  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

ton's  Paradise  Lost,  Banyan's  Pilgrim's  Progress,  and  Scott's 
Family  Bible,  stand  side  by  side  in  decorous  order,  with  mul 
titudes  of  other  books,  equally  solemn  and  respectable.  There 
are  no  servants  in  the  house,  but  the  lady  in  the  snowy  cap, 
with  the  spectacles,  who  sets  sewing  every  afternoon  among  her 
daughters,  as  if  nothing  ever  had  been  done,  or  were  to  be  done 
— she  and  her  girls,  in  some  long-forgotten  fore  part  of  the  day, 
"  did  up  the  work"  and  for  the  rest  of  the  time,  probably,  at 
all  hours  when  you  would  see  them,  it  is  "  done  up"  The  old 
kitchen  floor  never  seems  stained  or  spotted ;  the  tables,  the 
chairs,  and  the  various  cooking  utensils,  never  seem  deranged 
or  disordered ;  though  three  and  sometimes  four  meals  a  day 
are  got  there,  though  the  family  washing  and  ironing  is  there 
performed,  and  though  pounds  of  butter  and  cheese  are  in  some 
silent  and  mysterious  manner  there  brought  into  existence. 

And  here  is  something  very,  very  beautiful.  The 
gentle  Eva  is  passing  calmly  and  quietly  to  her  home 
in  heaven : 

"  St.  Clare  smiled.  You  must  excuse  him,  he  could  n't  help 
it — for  St.  Clare  could  smile  yet.  For  so  bright  and  placid 
was  the  farewell  voyage  of  the  little  spirit — by  such  sweet  and 
fragrant  breezes  was  the  small  bark  borne  toward  the  heavenly 
shores,  that  it  was  impossible  to  realize  that  it  was  death  that 
was  approaching.  The  child  felt  no  pain — only  a  tranquil,  soft 
weakness,  daily  and  almost  insensibly  increasing ;  and  she  was 
so  beautiful,  so  loving,  so  trustful,  so  happy,  that  one  could  not 
resist  the  soothing  influence  of  that  air  of  innocence  and  peace 
which  seemed  to  breathe  around  her.  St.  Clare  found  a  strange 


HARRIET    BEECHER    STOWE.  93 

calm  coming  over  him.  It  was  not  hope  —  that  was  impossible  ; 
it  was  not  resignation  ;  it  was  only  a  calm  resting  in  the  present, 
which  seemed  so  beautiful  that  he  wished  to  think  of  no  future. 
It  was  like  that  hush  of  spirit  which  we  feel  amid  the  bright, 
mild  woods  of  autumn,  when  the  bright  hectic  flush  is  on  the 
trees,  and  the  last  lingering  flowers  by  the  brook  ;  and  we  joy 
in  it  all  the  more  because  we  know  that  soon  it  will  all  pass 


The  unbounded  popularity  of  Uncle  Tom?s 
provoked  such  violent  and  false  accusations  on  the 
part  of  its  enemies,  that  Mrs.  Stowe  was  almost 
obliged  to  prepare  a  key,  which  should  prove  that 
she  had  not  exaggerated  in  her  story.  In  a  letter  to 
friends  in  Scotland,  she  speaks  thus  of  the  labor  of 
preparing  it  : 

"  When  the  time  came  for  me  to  fulfil  my  engagement  with 
you,  I  was,  as  you  know,  confined  to  my  bed  with  a  sickness, 
brought  on  by  the  exertion  of  getting  the  Key  to  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin  through  the  press  during  the  winter.  The  labor  of  pre 
paring  that  book,  simply  as  an  intellectual  investigation,  was  se 
vere  ;  but  what  a  risk  of  life  and  health  it  was  to  me,  no  one 
can  appreciate  but  myself. 

"  Nothing  could  have  justified  me,  with  my  large  family  of 
children,  in  making  such  an  effort,  in  the  state  of  health  in 
which  I  then  was,  except  the  deep  conviction  which  I  had,  and 
still  have,  that  I  was  called  of  God's  providence  to  do  it. 

"  In  every  part  of  the  world,  the  story  of  Uncle  Tom  had 
awakened  sympathy  for  the  poor  American  slave,  and,  conse- 


9-i  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

riu-ntly,  in  every  part  of  the  world,  the  story  of  hi.s  wrongs 
had  been  denied  ;  and  it  had  been  asserted  that  it  was  a-  more 
work  of  romance,  and  I  was  cliarged  with  being  the  slanderer  of 
the  institutions  of  my  own  country. 

"  I  knew  that,  if  I  shrunk  frpm  supporting  my  position,  the 
sympathy  which  the  work  had  excited  would  gradually  die  out, 
and  the  whole  thing  would  be  looked  upon  as  a  mere  roman 
tic  excitement  of  the  passions,  without  any  adequate  basis  of 
facts. 

"  Feeble  and  reduced  as  I  was,  it  became  absolutely  neoes- 
sary  that  I  should  take  this  opportunity,  when  the  attention  of 
the  world  was  awakened,  to  prove  the  charges  which  1  had 
made. 

"  Neither  could  such  a  work  be  done  slightly ;  for  every 
statement  was  to  be  thrown  before  bitter  and  unscrupulous  en 
emies,  who  would  do  their  utmost  to  break  the  force  of  every 
thing  which  was  said. 

"  It  was,  therefore,  necessary  that  not  an  assertion  should  be 
made  without  the  most  rigorous  investigation  and  scrutiny  ; 
and,  worn  as  I  then  was  with  the  subject,  with  every  nerve 
sensitive  and  sore,  1  was  obliged  to  spend  three  months  in  what 
were  to  me  the  most  agonizing  researches. 

"  The  remembrance  of  that  winter  is  to  me  one  of  horror. 
1  could  not  sleep  at  night,  and  I  had  no  comfort  in  the  day 
time.  All  that  consoled  me  was,  that  I  was  bearing  the  same 
kind  of  suffering  which  Christ  bore,  and  still  bears,  in  view  of 
the  agonies  and  distresses  of  sin  in  this  world." 

The  "Key"  was  eminently  successful  in  sustaining 
the  truth  of  the  story  of  Uncle  Tom.  It  was  an  aw- 


HARRIET    BKECIfKR    STOWE.  95 

ful  exposure  to  the  world  of  American  slavery,  and 
one  which  Mrs.  Stowe  would  gladly  have  avoided, 
but  it  was  forced  upon  her  in  self-defense.  That  it 
and  the  book  to  which  it  is  an  accompaniment  may 
fly  swiftly  upon  their  errand  of  mercy,  to  beg  for  the 
poor  slave  the  sympathy  and  love  of  every  humane 
heart,  is  our  heartfelt  desire. 


ELIHU  BURRITT. 

ELIHU  BURRITT  is  forty-three  years  old,  and  was 
born  in  the  village  of  'New  Britain,  Connecticut,  a 
few  miles  south-west  of  the  city  of  Hartford.  His 
parents  were  very  poor,  and  a  common  school  educa 
tion  was  all  that  they  could  give  their  children.  The 
father  was  an  ordinary  man — honest,  virtuous  and  re 
spectable,  though  excessively  poor.  The  mother,  how 
ever,  was  remarkable  for  her  many  virtues.  She  was 
a  woman  of  fine  intellect,  lofty  courage,  ardent  piety, 
and  brought  up  her  children  most  admirably.  Such 
mothers  seem  always  to  have  uncommon  children. 
Besides  the  subject  of  this  sketch,  she  had  another 
son,  Elijah  Burritt,  whose  name  is  not  unknown  to 
fame,  and  who  perished  on  the  prairies  of  the  far  south, 
a  victim  to  an  insatiable  thirst  for  adventure  and 
knowledge. 

Elihu,  like  the  majorit}7  of  New  England  boys,  laid 
the  foundation  for  his  after  greatness,  in  a  district 
school-house.  While  yet  a  boy,  lie  had  visions  of 
future  greatness.  Though  the  roof  beneath  which  lie 
slept  was  humble,  though  his  position  was  lowly,  yet 
in  his  heart  there  were  great  and  noble  aspirations. 


ELIHU   BURRITT.  97 

We  have  heard  him  speak  of  some  of  his  boyish 
dreams  of  future  usefulness,  and  he  would  be  dull, 
indeed,  who  could  not  gather  from  them  the  fact  that 
at  a  very  early  age,  he  looked  forward  to  a  career 
by  no  means  insignificant.  At  a  certain  age,  he  was 
filled  with  a  martial  spirit.  Kor  is  this  a  singular 
fact,  as  it  arose  from  an  ardent  admiration  of  heroism. 
He  saw,  as  he  grew  older,  that  true  heroism  does  not 
consist  in  cutting  men's  throats,  but  in  braving  the 
scorn,  ridicule  and  hatred  of  wicked  men,  and  doing 
great  deeds  of  humanity.  But  at  one  time  in  his  life, 
when  he  was  young,  he  read  much  of  warlike  men, 
and  the  sound  of  the  drum  stirred  his  heart,  as  if  he 
had  been  a  soldier.  We  heard  him  once,  by  the  fire 
side,  tell  how  he,  when  a  boy,  rose  one  morning  long 
before  sunrise,  to  accompany,  on  foot,  a  few  kindred 
spirits  to  a  neighboring  town,  to  witness  a  "regi 
mental  training."  The  long  walk,  through  lonesome 
woods  and  valleys,  was  filled  with  martial  tales  and 
dreams  of  future  heroic,  martial  deeds.  The  march 
ing  and  counter-marching  of  the  soldiers,  the  spirited 
music,  the  sham-fighting,  all  made  a  deep  impression 
upon  him.  For  he  saw  not  mere  red-coated  men — 
saw  not  sham  conflicts,  but  his  imagination  trans 
formed  the  real  into  the  unreal,  and  he  gazed  upon  a 
regiment  of  heroes,  ready  to  spill  their  last  drop  of 
blood  in  the  cause  of  freedom !  In  a  little  time,  he 

learned  that  all  is  not  what  it  seems,  but  an  ardent 
E  7 


98  MODERN    AGITATOKS. 

admiration  for  the    truly  heroic,  characterizes  him 
to-day. 

At  an  early  age,  Mr.  Burritt  commenced  to  learn 
the  trade  of  a  blacksmith,  in  his  native  town.  While 
learning  his  trade,  he  prosecuted  his  school  studies 
with  great  industry.  He  soon,  alone  and  unaided, 
took  up  a  Latin  grammar,  and  made  himself  familiar 
with  that  language.  He  then  took  up  the  Greek, 
then  the  Italian,  and,  in  the  course  of  a  few  years, 
could  read  more  or  less  readily  in  nearly  fifty  lan 
guages.  The  last  year  which  Mr.  Burritt  spent  in 
New  Britain,  before  seeking  his  fortune  abroad,  he 
kept  a  refreshment-shop  in  the  village.  Being  un 
successful,  he  left  it,  and,  as  he  was  desirous  of  en 
joying  the  privileges  of  an  antiquarian  library,  he  re 
moved  to  Worcester,  Massachusetts,  where  he  worked 
industriously  at  his  trade  and  books.  His  linguisti- 
cal  acquirements  soon  gave  him  notoriety.  In  the 
mean  time,  his  fertile  brain  was  filled  with  great 
plans  for  the  future.  He  once  went  to  Boston  with 
a  view  to  take  ship  to  some  distant  countries,  where 
he  could,  with  better  advantage,  pursue  his  study  of 
the  languages.  The  world  should  rejoice  that  he, 
about  this  time,  renounced  his  passion  for  linguistical 
knowledge,  and  devoted  himself  with  intense  earnest 
ness  to  the  advocacy  of  peace,  temperance,  and  anti- 
slavery.  He  established  a  weekly  journal  in  Worces 
ter,  called  the  "  Christian  Citizen"  in  which  he 


KLIIIU   BCRRITT.  99 

poured  out  the  wealth  of  his  heart  and  brain.  Ilis 
powerful  article?  soon  attracted  the  attention  of 
the  good  and  great,  and  his  journal  had  a  wide  cir 
culation.  We  think  that  some  of  the  miscellaneous 
writings  of  Mr.  Burritt  are  among  the  finest  things 
in  the  English  language  ;  and  as  those  who  have  read 
them  once,  will  not  dislike  to  read  them  a  second 
time,  we  copy  two  or  three  of  them  here.  Here  is 
the  best  description,  in  a  few  lines,  of  the  iron  horse, 
we  ever  saw : 

"  I  love  to  see  one  of  these  huge  creatures,  with  sinews  of 
brass  and  muscles  of  iron,  strut  forth  from  his  smoky  stable, 
and,  saluting  the  long  train  of  cars  with  a  dozen  sonorous  puffs 
from  his  iron  nostrils,  fall  back  gently  into  his  harness.  There 
he  stands,  champing  and  foaming  upon  the  iron  track,  his  great 
heart  a  furnace  of  glowing  coals ;  his  lymphatic  blood  is  boil 
ing  in  his  veins ;  the  strength  of  a  thousand  horses  is  nerving 
his  sinews ;  he  pants  to  be  gone.  He  would  '  snake '  St.  Peters 
across  the  desert  of  Sahara,  if  he  could  be  fairly  hitched  to  it ; 
but  there  is  a  little,  sober-eyed,  tobacco-chewing  man  in  the  sad 
dle,  who  holds  him  in  with  one  finger,  and  can  take  away  his 
breath  in  a  moment,  should  he  grow  restive  or  vicious.  I  am 
always  deeply  interested  in  this  man,  for,  begrimmed  as  he 
may  be  with  coal,  diluted  in  oil  and  steam,  I  regard  him  as  the 
genius  of  the  whole  machinery  ;  as  the  physical  mind  of  that 
huge  steam-horse." 

The  little  sketch  which  follows  is,  it  seems  to  us, 
is  one  of  the  most  touching  ever  written  : 


100  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

"BURY  ME  IN  THE  GARDEN." 

There  was  sorrow  there,  and  tears  were  in  every  eye  ;  and 
there  were  low,  half-suppressed  sobbings  heard  from  every  cor 
ner  of  the  room  ;  but  the  little  sufferer  was  still ;  its  young 
spirit  was  just  on  the  verge  of  departure.  The  mother  was 
bending  over  it  in  all  the  speechless  yearnings  of  parental  love, 
with  one  arm  under  its  pillow,  and  with  the  other,  unconsciously 
drawing  the  little  dying  girl  closer  and  closer  to  her  bosom. 
Poor  thing !  in  the  bright  and  dewy  morning  it  had  followed  out 
before  its  father  into  the  field ;  and  while  he  was  there  engaged 
in  his  labors,  it  had  patted  around  among  the  meadow-flowers, 
and  had  stuck  its  bosom  full,  and  all  its  burnished  tresses,  with 
carmine  and  lily-tinted  things  ;  and  returning  tired  to  its  father's 
side,  he  had  lifted  it  upon  the  loaded  cart ;  but  a  stone  in  the  road 
had  shaken  it  from  its  seat,  and  the  ponderous,  iron-rimmed 
wheels  had  ground  it  down  into  the  very  cart-path — and  the  little 
crushed  creature  was  dying. 

We  had  all  gathered  up  closely  to  its  bedside,  and  were  hang 
ing  over  the  young,  bruised  thing,  to  see  if  it  yet  breathed,  when 
a  slight  movement  came  over  its  lips  and  its  eyes  partly  opened. 
There  was  no  voice,  but  there  was  something  beneath  its  eyelids 
which  a  mother  alone  could  interpret.  Its  lips  trembled  again, 
and  we  all  held  our  breath — its  eyes  opened  a  little  farther,  and 
then  we  heard  the  departing  spirit  whisper  in  that  ear  which 
touched  those  ashy  lips  :  "  Mother  !  Mother !  don't  let  them 
carry  me  away  down  to  the  dark,  cold  grave-yard,  but  bury  me 
in  the  garden — in  the  garden,  mother." 

A  little  sister,  whose  eyes  were  raining  down  with  the  meltings 
of  her  heart,  had  crept  up  to  the  bedside,  and  taking  the  hand 


ELILIU    BUKlilTT.  101 

of  the  dying  girl,  sobbed  aloud  in  its  ears  :  "  Julia !  Julia  !  can't 
you  speak  to  Antoinette  1 " 

The  last,  fluttering  pulsation  of  expiring  nature  struggled 
hard  to  enable  that  little  spirit  to  utter  one  more  wish  and  word 
of  affection  :  its  soul  was  on  its  lips,  as  it  whispered  again : 

l;  Bury  me  in   the   garden,  mother — bury   me  in  the " 

and  a  quivering  came  over  its  limbs,  one  feeble  struggle,  and 
all  was  still. 

The  last  sketch  which  we  quote  is,  perhaps,  the 
best : 

THE  NATURAL  BRIBGE. 

The  scene  opens  with  a  view  of  the  great  Natural  Bridge  in 
Virginia.  There  are  three  or  four  lads  standing  in  the  channel 
below,  looking  up  with  awe  to  that  vast  arch  of  unhewn  rocks, 
which  the  Almighty  bridged  over  those  everlasting  butments 
"  when  the  morning  stars  sang  together."  The  little  piece  of 
sky  spanning  those  measureless  piers,  is  full  of  stars,  although 
it  is  mid-day.  It  is  almost  five  hundred  feet  from  where  they 
stand,  up  those  perpendicular  bulwarks  of  limestone,  to  the  key 
rock  of  that  vast  arch,  which  appears  to  them  only  of  the  size 
of  a  man's  hand.  The  silence  of  death  is  rendered  more  im 
pressive  by  the  little  stream  that  falls  from  rock  to  rock  down 
the  channel.  The  sun  is  darkened,  and  the  boys  have  uncon 
sciously  uncovered  their  heads,  as  if  standing  in  the  presence- 
chamber  of  the  Majesty  of  the  whole  earth.  At  last,  this  feel 
ing  begins  to  wear  away ;  they  begin  to  look  around  them  ; 
they  find  that  others  have  been  there  before  them.  They  see 
the  names  of  hundreds  cut  in.  the  limestone  butments.  Anew 


102  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

feeling  comes  over  their  young  hearts,  and  their  knives  are  in 
their  hands  in  an  instant.  "  What  man  has  done,  man  can  do," 
is  their  watchword,  while  they  draw  themselves  up,  and  carve 
their  names  a  foot  above  those  of  a  hundred  full-grown  men 
who  have  been  there  before  them. 

They  arc  all  satisfied  with  this  feat  of  physical  exertion, 
except  one,  whose  example  illustrates  perfectly  the  forgotten 
truth  that  there  is  no  royal  road  to  intellectual  eminence.  This 
ambitious  youth  sees  a  name  just  above  his  reach,  a  name  that 
will  be  green  in  the  memory  of  the  world,  when  those  of  Alex 
ander,  Caesar,  and  Bonaparte  shall  rot  in  oblivion.  It  was  the 
name  of  Washington.  Before  he  marched  with  Braddock  to 
that  fatal  field,  he  had  been  there,  and  left  his  name  a  foot  above 
all  his  predecessors.  It  was  a  glorious  thought  of  the  boy,  to 
write  his  name  side  by  side  with  that  of  the  great  father  of  his 
country.  He  grasps  his  knife  with  a  firmer  hand  ;  and,  cling 
ing  to  a  little  jutting  crag,  he  cuts  a  niche  into  the  limestone, 
about  a  foot  above  where  he  stands  ;  he  then  reaches  up  and 
cuts  another  for  his-  hands.  Tis  a  dangerous  adventure  ;  but, 
as  he  puts  his  feet  and  hands  into  those  niches,  and  draws  him 
self  up  carefully  to  his  full  length,  he  finds  himself  a  foot  above 
every  name  chronicled  in  that  mighty  wall.  While  his  com 
panions  are  regarding  him  with  concern  and  admiration,  he  cuts 
his  name  in  rude  capitals,  large  and  deep,  into  that  flinty  album. 
His  knife  is  still  in  his  hand,  and  strength  in  his  sinews,  and  a 
new-created  aspiration  in  his  heart.  Again  he  cuts  another 
niche,  and  again  he  carves  his  name  in  larger  capitals.  This  is 
not  enough.  Heedless  of  the  entreaties  of  his  companions,  he 
cuts  and  climbs  again.  The  gradations  of  his  ascending  scale 


ELIHTJ    BCRRITT.  103 

grow  wider  apart  He  measures  his  length  at  every  gain  he 
cuts.  The  voices  of  his  friends  wax  weaker  and  weaker,  till 
their  words  are  finally  lost  on  his  ear.  He  now,  for  the  first 
time,  casts  a  look  beneath  him.  Had  that  glance  lasted  a  mo 
ment,  that  moment  would  have  been  his  last.  He  clings  with 
a  convulsive  shudder  to  his  little  niche  in  the  rock.  An  awful 
abyss  awaits  his  almost  certain  fall.  He  is  faint  with  severe 
exertion,  and  trembling,  from  the  sudden  view  of  the  dreadful 
destruction  to  which  he  is  exposed.  His  knife  is  worn  half-way 
to  the  haft.  He  can  hear  the  voices,  but  not  the  words  of  his 
terror-stricken  companions  below.  What  a  moment !  What 
a  meager  chance  to  escape  destruction  !  There  is  no  retracing 
his  steps.  It  is  impossible  to  put  his  hands  into  the  same  niche 
with  his  feet  and  retain  his  slender  hold  a  moment.  His  com 
panions  instantly  perceive  this  new  and  fearful  dilemma,  and 
await  his  fall  with  emotions  that  "  freeze  their  young  blood." 
He  is  too  high,  too  faint,  to  ask  for  his  father  and  mother,  his 
brothers  and  sisters,  to  come  and  witness  or  avert  his  destruc 
tion.  But  one  of  his  companions  anticipates  his  desire.  Swift 
as  the  wind,  he  bounds  down  the  channel,  and  the  situation  of 
the  fated  boy  is  told  upon  his  father's  hearth-stone. 

Minutes  of  almost  eternal  length  roll  on,  and  there  are  hun 
dreds  standing  in  that  rocky  channel,  and  hundreds  on  the  bridge 
above,  all  holding  their  breath,  and  awaiting  the  fearful  catas 
trophe.  The  poor  boy  hears  the  hum  of  new  and  numerous 
voices  both  above  and  below.  He  can  just  distinguish  the  tones 
of  his  father,  who  is  shouting  with  all  the  energy  of  despair : 
"  William !  William  !  don't  look  down  !  Your  mother,  and 
Henry,  and  Harriet,  are  Jill  hero,  praying  for  you  !  Keep  your 


104  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

eye  toward  the  top ! "  The  boy  didn't  look  down.  His  eye 
is  fixed  like  a  flint  toward  heaven,  and  his  young  heart  on  Him 
who  reigns  there.  He  grasps  again  his  knife.  He  cuts  another 
niche,  and  another  foot  is  added  to  the  hundreds  that  remove 
him  from  the  reach  of  human  help  from  below.  How  care 
fully  he  uses  his  wasting  blade  !  How  anxiously  he  selects  the 
softest  places  in  that  vast  pier !  How  he  avoids  every  flinty 
grain !  How  he  economizes  his  physical  powers,  resting  a  mo 
ment  at  each  gain  he  cuts !  How  every  motion  is  watched  from 
below  !  There  stand  his  father,  mother,  brother  and  sister,  on 
the  very  spot  where,  if  he  falls,  he  will  not  fall  alone. 

The  sun  is  now  half-way  down  the  west.  The  lad  has  made 
fifty  additional  niches  in  that  mighty  wall,  and  now  finds  him 
self  directly  under  the  middle  of  that  vast  arch  of  rocks,  earth, 
and  trees.  He  must  cut  his  way  in  a  new  direction,  to  get  from 
under  this  overhanging  mountain.  The  inspiration  of  hope  is 
dying  in  his  bosom ;  its  vital  heat  is  fed  by  the  increasing 
shouts  of  hundreds,  perched  upon  cliffs  and  trees,  and  others 
who  stand  with  ropes  in  their  hands,  on  the  bridge  above,  or 
with  ladders  below.  Fifty  gains  more  must  be  cut  before  the 
longest  rope  can  reach  him.  His  wasting  blade  strikes  again 
into  She  limestone.  The  boy  is  emerging  painfully,  foot  by  foot, 
from  under  that  lofty  arch.  Spliced  ropes  are  ready,  in  the 
hands  of  those  who  are  leaning  over  the  outer  edge  of  the  bridge. 
Two  minutes  more,  and  all  will  be  over.  The  blade  is  worn 
to  the  last  half-inch.  The  boy's  head  reels  ;  his  eyes  are  start 
ing  from  their  sockets.  His  last  hope  is  dying  in  his  heart ;  his 
life  must  hang  upon  the  next  gain  he  cuts.  That  niche  is  hls 
last.  At  the  last  faint  gash  he  makes,  his  knife,  his  faithful 


ELIIIU  BURurrr  105 


knife,  falls  from  his  little  nerveless  hand,  and,  ringing  along  the 
precipice,  falls  at  his  mother's  feet.  An  involuntary  groan  of 
despair  runs  like  a  death-knell  through  the  channel  below,  and 
all  is  as  still  as  the  grave.  At  the  height  of  nearly  three  hun 
dred  feet,  the  devoted  boy  lifts  his  hopeless  heart,  and  closes 
his  eyes  to  commend  his  soul  to  God.  Tis  but  a  moment  — 
there  !  one  foot  swings  off!  he  is  reeling  —  trembling  —  toppling 
over  into  eternity  !  Hark  !  a  shout  falls  on  his  ear  from  above. 
The  man  who  is  lying  with  half  his  length  over  the  bridge,  has 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  boy's  head  and  shoulders.  Quick  as 
thought,  the  noosed  rope  is  within  reach  of  the  sinking  youth. 
No  one  breathes.  With  a  faint,  convulsive  effort,  the  swoon 
ing  boy  drops  his  arms  into  the  noose.  Darkness  comes  over 
him,  and  with  the  words,  GOD!  and  MOTHER!  whispered  on 
his  lips,  just  loud  enough  to  be  heard  in  heaven  —  the  tightening 
rope  lifts  him  out  of  his  last  shallow  niche.  Not  a  lip  moves 
while  he  is  dangling  over  that  fearful  abyss;  but  when  a  sturdy 
Virginian  reaches  down  and  draws  up  the  lad,  and  holds  him 
up  in  his  arms  before  the  tearful,  breathless  multitude,  such 
shouting  —  such  leaping  and  weeping  for  joy  —  never  greeted 
the  ear  of  a  human  being  so  recovered  from  the  yawning 
gulf  of  eternity. 

The  pieces  which  we  have  quoted  will  not,  perhaps, 
give  the  reader  a  proper  idea  of  Mr.  Burritt's  usual 
style  in  his  reformatory  writings.  He  is  an  earnest, 
powerful,  enthusiastic  writer.  It  may  seem  strange, 
that  an  enthusiast  should  understand  the  power  of 
well-arranged  facts  and  figures,  but  Mr.  Burritt  does, 
and  uses  liis  knowledge  to  great  advantage. 


106  .MODERN    AGITATORS. 

About  eight  years  ago  Mr.  Burritt  left  tins  country 
for  England.  "We  believe  he  was  invited  by  the 
friends  of  peace  in  that  country,  at  any  rate  he 
started  on  his  way  like  a  poot  pilgrim,  bent  on  doing 
good  in  an  humble  manner.  He  entered  England 
quietly,  and  in  a  plain  dress,  with  a  knapsack  over 
his  shoulder,  wandered  over  the  country  to  see  its 
beautiful  landscapes,  and  to  do  good.  One  of  his  ob 
jects  was  to  establish  little  peace  societies,  which  he 
denominated  "  Leagues  of  Brotherhood."  The  first 
of  these  he  organized  in  the  little  village  of  Penshore, 
and  in  the  course  of  a  few  months  a  large  number 
were  flourishing  throughout  England.  By  degrees 
the  fame  which  had  attached  itself  to  him  in  Amer 
ica  for  his  knowledge  of  the  languages,  and  his  pow 
ers  as  a  writer,  spread  to  England,  and  his  society 
was  sought  by  great  personages.  But  great  men 
were  avoided  by  Mr.  Burritt,  unless  they  could  be 
made  to  advance  the  great  cause  to  which  all  his  en 
ergies  were  devoted.  Everything  centered  there. 
In  his  little  upper  room  in  Broad-street,  London,  the 
American  blacksmith  worked  incessantly,  night  and 
day,  to  advance  the  interests  of  the  League  of  Broth 
erhood.  He  allowed  himself  no  intermission  from 
the  contemplation  of  the  one  great  subject.  His  only 
relaxation  was  that  of  lecturing  in  the  provincial 
towns  upon  it.  His  "one  idea"  was  not  popular 
among  the  fashionable  classes  in  England,  and  he 


KLIHU    BUHRITT.  107 

was  not  popular  with  them.  But  the  philanthropic, 
the  wise  and  good  esteemed  him  more  and  better. 
His  success  in  England,  though  apparently  small, 
was  after  all  encouraging.  He  won  over  to  the  cause 
of  peace  a  large  class  of  English  men  and  women,  who 
before  had  not  examined  the  subject.  And  though 
the  state  of  Europe  at  present  is  not  peaceful,  that 
does  not  prove  that  Mr.  Burritt's  mission  there  was 
a  failure.  For  several  years  he  has  advocated  the 
establishment  of  an  ocean  penny  postage  between 
all  the  great  countries  of  the  world.  This  is,  at  pres 
ent,  his  favorite  subject,  and  he  is  devoting  himself 
mainly  to  its  advocacy. 

Mr.  Burritt  has  a  striking  personal  appearance. 
He  is  rather  tall,  his  frame  is  by  no  means  puny, 
though  the  narrowness  of  his  chest  gives  him  a  frail 
look.  His  arms  and  hands,  which  are  large  and  stout, 
remind  one  of  the  fact,  that  he  for  years  swung  the 
hammer  upon  the  anvil.  His  face  is  long,  forehead 
large  and  sloping,  his  eyes  are  blue,  and  his  mouth 
is  one  of  the  finest  ever  man  possessed.  In  his  move 
ments  Mr.  Burritt  is  awkward,  as  in  his  pronuncia 
tion.  His  manners  are  somewhat  of  the  same  stamp. 
This  arises  from  his  seclusion  and  absent-mindedness. 
He  is,  however,  exceedingly  social  at  times,  and  has 
great  conversational  talents.  He  has  the  power  of 
attracting  the  close  attention  of  all  about  him,  to  the 
subject  he  is  discussing. 


108  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

He  is  no  orator,  in  the  ordinary  meaning  of  the 
word,  but  he  is  sometimes  intensely  eloquent.  He 
has  extraordinary  energy,  great  power  of  concentra 
tion  of  thought  and  feeling,  and  when  he  is  thor 
oughly  aroused,  he  makes  up  for  the  lack  of  the  nat 
ural  graces  of  oratory  in  burning,  impressive,  intense 
eloquence.  His  words  may  be  uttered  in  a  homely 
style,  but  his  thoughts  are  magnificent,  and  his  en 
thusiasm  is  almost  sublime.  He  often,  as  it  were, 
magnetizes  his  audiences  by  his  remarkable  and  lofty 
enthusiasm.  The  same  is  true  of  him  in  conversa 
tional  circles. 

By  long  continued  study  Mr.  Burritt  has  acquired 
a  worn  and  weary  appearance.  He  looks  much  older 
than  he  really  is,  and  his  nervous  system  is  injured. 

Several  years  ago,  Mr.  Fowler,  the  phrenologist, 
took  a  cast  of  Mr.  Burritt's  head,  and  he  speaks  as 
follows  of  his  moral  organs  : 

"  He  has  a  high  head,  and  narrow  at  the  base  ;  or,  a  great 
development  of  the  moral  organs,  with  small  selfish  propensi 
ties.  His  labors  are  eminently  labors  of  love.  In  every  good 
work  he  acts  a  leading  part.  He  is  exerting  a  most  excellent 
influence,  and  doing  immense  good.  His  talents  are  controlled 
by  higher  faculties.  He  is  a  true  philanthropist.  Long  may 
.  he  live  to  shed  benign  influences  on  his  race. 

"  He  has  very  large  social  organs,  and  hence  those  strong 
personal  friends  he  makes,  and  also  that  expansive  love  for  his 
fellow  man,  which  he  evinces.  He  abominates  war,  and  would 


BURKITT.  11)9 

'take  Quebec  by  ships  of  PROVISIONS,  instead  of  ships  of  war,' 
and  bind  our  race  in  one  great  bundle  of  love,  by  indissoluble 
bonds  of  fraternal  affection. 

"  His  ambitious  organs  are  likewise  large,  yet  they  take  an 
intellectual  and  moral  direction.  They  simply  fit  him  to  take 
a  leading  part,  and  sustain  him  in  his  public  capacity,  but  do 
not  raise  Elihu  Burritt  above  his  cause.  On  the  other  hand, 
he  is  rather  modest,  yet  firm  and  dignified,  and  well  qualified 
to  lead  off  the  public  mind.  May  such  men  be  multiplied  till 
they  stay  the  popular  tide  of  evil  and  depravity,  in  high  places 
and  low,  which  nosv  abounds." 

Mr.  Fowler  quotes  the  following  paragraphs  from 
an  authentic  source,  in  reference  to  Mr.  Burritt's  an 
cestry  and  relatives : 

"  His  maternal  grandfather,  Hinsdale,  was  a  remarkable  man, 
intrusted  with  town  offices,  a  great  reader,  and  with  only  ordi 
nary  advantages,  possessed  himself  of  an  extraordinary  fund  of 
knowledge. 

"  Burritt's  brother,  author  of  that  excellent  astronomical  trea 
Use,  the  'Geography  of  the  Heavens,'  inherits  a  like  insatiable 
thirst  after  knowledge,  and  facility  in  acquiring  it,  besides  be 
ing  extensively  erudite. 

"  A  sister  and  a  maternal  nephew  are  also  endowed  with  a 
similar  power  of  memory  and  passion  for  reading,  as  well  as 
capability  of  storing  their  minds  with  knowledge. 

"  One  of  this  learned  family,  1  think  Elihu's  brother,  literally 
killed  himself  by  study,  in  which  he  progressed  with  astonish 
ing  rapidity.  This  wonderful  love  of  learning,  and  capability 


110  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

of  retaining  it,  will  undoubtedly  be  found  to  have  been  handed 
down  to  the  Hinsdales,  and  throughout  the  various  branches 
of  their  descendants,  as  far  as  it  can  be  traced." 

There  are  many  more  noisy  reformers  in  the  world 
than  Elilm  Burritt,  but  we  know  of  few  who  are  acqui 
ring  a  purer  and  nobler  reputation  than  his.  He  is 
by  no  means  without  faults,  but  his  long  and  weari 
some  labors  for  his  fellow-men  shall  not  be  fruitless, 
nor  will  his  name  ever  be  forgotten. 


WILLIAM  LLOYD  GARRISON. 

IT  is  difficult,  at  the  present  time,  to  do  full  justice 
to  William  Lloyd  Garrison.  It  remains  for  the  fu 
ture  historian  of  this  generation  to  accord  to  him  the 
position  which  a  prejudiced  people  cannot  now  allow 
him  to  occupy.  There  are  so  many  millions  who  now 
hate  Garrison,  so  many  thousands  of  comparatively 
good  men  who  dislike  him,  who  consider  him  at  least 
rash  and  headstrong,  that  he  cannot  hope,  for  many 
years,  to  be  judged  candidly  and  generously.  We  have 
no  more  doubt  that  fifty  years  hence  the  name  of  Gar 
rison  will  be  revered  by  the  American  nation,  than  we 
have  of  the  ultimate  overthrow  of  human  slavery  in 
this  country.  We  look  upon  him  as  the  great  puri 
tan  of  anti-slavery.  Like  one  of  the  grand  old  Puri 
tans,  he  is  stern,  solemnly  enthusiastic,  terribly  se 
vere  upon  wrong-doers,  and  unswerving  from  his  idea 
of  what  is  right.  We  think,  also,  like  some  of  the 
Puritans,  he  is  bigoted,  as  men  with  their  thoughts 
directed  intensely  upon  one  object,  are  apt  to  be,  but 
the  future  generation  will  look  upon  his  severity  of 
character,  his  bigotry,  as  we  look  upon  the  saine 
faults  in  the  grand  men  who  laid  the  foundations  of 
this  republic — as  spots  upon  the  reputation  of  one  of 


112  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

the  noblest  men  that  ever  lived.  Mr.  Garrison  is, 
we  believe,  a  native  of  Massachusetts.  At  a  very 
early  age  he  was  placed  in  a  printing  office,  in  Ne\v- 
buryport,  by  his  mother,  who  was  a  poor  widow,  and 
a  pious,  worthy  woman.  In  the  short  space  of  twelve 
months  he  was  master  of  his  trade,  and  at  once  went 
to  work  to  assist  his  mother,  in  addition  to  support 
ing  himself.  At  an  early  age  he  was  fond  of  books, 
magazines,  and  newspapers,  and  read  them  with 
great  avidity.  lie  joined  a  club,  and  being  invited 
to  deliver  an  oration  before  it,  he  did  so,  to  the  grat 
ification  of  all  who  listened  to  it.  He  was  also  at  this 
time  a  contributor  to  the  columns  of  the  Newbury- 
port  Herald,  furnishing  for  it  several  well- written  es 
says,  which  attracted  considerable  attention.  When 
he  was  twenty-one  years  old,  he  published  his  first 
poem  in  that  journal.  Shortly  after,  he  set  up  a  new 
paper,  with  the  name  of  "  The  Free  Press"  which 
was  edited  with  so  much  vigor  and  earnestness  of 
purpose,  that  it  was  well  received  by  the  more  ad 
vanced  class  of  readers  at  the  north.  He,  however, 
soon  removed  to  Yermont,  where  he  published  and 
edited  the  "  Journal  of  the  Times"  This  was  as 
early  as  1828,  and  he  advocated  in  his  paper  "  the 
gradual  emancipation  of  every  slave  in  the  republic." 
He  also  advocated  with  much  zeal  and  power  the 
cause  of  temperance.  In  September,  1829,  he  re 
moved  to  Baltimore,  for  the  purpose  of  editing  the 


WILLIAM    LLOYD   GARRISON.  113 

"Genius  of  Universal  Emancipation"  there.  While 
performing  the  duties  of  his  office,  a  Newburyport 
merchant  fitted  out  a  small  vessel,  and  filled  it  in 
Baltimore  with  slaves  for  the  Xew  Orleans  market. 
It  was  a  Yankee  speculation  in  the  flesh  and  blood 
of  his  fellow-men,  and  Mr.  Garrison  commented  with 
great  and  deserved  severity  upon  the  transaction  in 
his  newspaper.  The  consequence  was,  he  was  prose 
cuted  in  the  courts,  before  slave-holding  jurors,  who 
were  interested  in  getting  him  silenced,  or  at  least  se 
verely  rebuked.  He  was  sentenced  to  pay  a  very 
heavy  fine,  and  to  be  imprisoned  until  he  paid  it. 
He  had  not  so  much  money,  and  never  hoped  even 
to  be  possessed  of  so  much,  and  therefore  calmly  en 
tered  his  dungeon.  It  was  his  first  terrible  experi 
ence  of  the  cruelty  of  southern  despotism.  For  ad 
ministering  a  just  rebuke  to  a  man  w^ho  had  been 
making  merchandize  of  his  fellow-men,  he  was  sent 
to  hopeless  confinement,  and  that,  too,  in  free  Amer 
ica  !  Can  the  reader  wonder  why  Garrison  is  so  bit 
ter  in  his  denunciations  of  slavery  ?  While  in  his 
dungeon  he  composed  the  following  beautiful  and 
spirited  verses : 

"High  walls  and  huge  the  body  may  confine, 
And  iron  gates  obstruct  the  prisoner's  gaze, 

And  massive  bolts  may  baffle  his  design, 

And  vigilant  keepers  watch  his  desirous  way. 

8 


MODERN    AGITATORS. 

"Yet  scorns  the  immortal  mind  this  base  control  I 
No  chains  can  bind  it  and  no  cell  enclose ; 

Swifter  than  light  it  flies  from  pole  to  pole, — 
And  in  a  flash  from  earth  to  heaven  it  goes. 

"  It  leaps  from  mount  to  mount — from  vale  to  vale, 
It  wanders  plucking  honeyed  fruits  and  flowers  ; 

It  visits  home  to  hear  the  fireside  tale, 

Or  in  sweet  converse  pass  the  joyous  hours. 

Tis  up  before  the  sun,  soaring  afar — 

And  in  its  watches  wearies  every  star." 

Arthur  Tappan  volunteered  to  pay  Mr.  Garrison's 
line,  and  he  was  thereupon  released.  He  now  gave 
up  the  attempt  to  publish  an  anti-slavery  journal  in 
Baltimore,  though  he  did  entertain  the  idea  of  pub 
lishing  one  in  Washington.  When  he  established 
the  "Liberator"  in  Boston,  in  January,  1831,  he  said  : 

"  In  the  month  of  August  I  issued  proposals  for  publishing 
"The  Liberator"  in  Washington  city;  but  the  enterprise, 
though  hailed  approvingly  in  different  sections  of  the  country, 
was  palsied  by  public  indifference.  *  *  *  During  my  re 
cent  tour  for  the  purpose  of  exciting  the  minds  of  the  people 
by  a  series  of  discourses  on  the  subject  of  slavery,  every  place 
that  I  visited  gave  fresh  evidence  of  the  fact  that  a  greater  rev 
olution  in  public  sentiment  was  to  be  effected  in  the  free  states, 
and  particularly  in  New  England,  than  at  the  south.  I  found 
contempt  more  bitter,  opposition  more  active,  detraction  more 
relentless,  prejudice  more  stubborn,  and  apathy  more  frozen  than 
among  slave  owners  themselves.  Of  course  there  were  individ 
ual  exceptions  to  the  contrary.  This  state  of  things  afflicted 


WILLIAM   LLOYD    GARRISON.  115 

but  did  not  dishearten  me.  I  determined  at  every  hazard  to 
lift  up  the  standard  of  emancipation  in  the  eyes  of  the  nation, 
within  the  sight  of  Bunker  Hill,  and  in  the  birth-place  of  lib 
erty.  *  *  *  I  am  aware  that  many  object  to  the  sever 
ity  of  my  language ;  but  is  there  not  cause  for  severity  ]  I 
will  be  as  harsh  as  truth,  and  as  uncompromising  as  justice.  On 
this  subject  I  do  not  wish  no  think,  or  speak,  or  write  with 
moderation.  No,  no  !  Tell  a  man  whose  house  is  on  fire  to 
give  a  moderate  alarm  ;  tell  him  to  moderately  rescue  his  wife 
from  the  hands  of  the  ravisher ;  tell  the  mother  to  gradually 
extricate  her  babe  from  the  fire  into  which  it  has  fallen ;  but 
urge  me  not  to  use  moderation  in  a  cause  like  the  present !  I 
am  in  earnest.  I  will  not  equivocate — I  will  not  excuse — I 
will  not  retreat  a  single  inch — and  I  will  be  heard.  The  apa 
thy  of  the  people  is  enough  to  make  every  statue  leap  from 
its  pedestal,  and  to  hasten  the  resurrection  of  the  dead." 

But  the  most  thrilling  event  perhaps  of  his  life  was 
the  occurrence  of  the  mob  in  Boston,  in  October,  1835. 
At  that  time  George  Thompson,  from  England,  was 
in  this  country,  and  he,  with  Mr.  Garrison,  were  en 
gaged  to  address  the  Female  Anti-Slavery  Society, 
at  its  annual  meeting  in  that  city.  Public  excite 
ment  against  the  abolitionists  was  intense,  and  before 
the  time  appointed  for  the  convention,  the  lessee  of 
Congress  Hall,  fearing  the  destruction  of  his  prop 
erty,  decided  that  the  meeting  must  be  held  else 
where.  It  was  subsequently  arranged  to  convene  in 
the  Anti-Slavery  Hall,  in  Washington-street,  on  Wed- 


116  MODERN    AGITATOKS. 

nesday,  October  21st,  at  three  o'clock,  in  the  after 
noon  and  addresses  were  expected  on  the  occasion. 
Fearing  lest  his  presence  might  be  productive  of  in 
jury  to  the  cause,  Mr.  Thompson  withdrew  from  the 
city  before  the  day  appointed.  On  that  morning  a 
placard  was  circulated  to  the  intent  that  "  the  infa 
mous  foreign  scoundrel,  Thompson,  would  hold  forth 
in  the  Anti-Slavery  Hall  in  the  afternoon,  and  that 
the  present  was  a  fair  opportunity  to  snake  him  out ; 
that  a  purse  of  one  hundred  dollars  had  been  raised 
by  a  number  of  patriotic  individuals,  to  reward  the 
person  who  should  first  lay  violent  hands  upon  him, 
so  that  he  might  be  brought  to  the  tar  kettle  before 
dark."  By  such  measures,  and  by  editorials  in  influ 
ential  papers,  the  worst  passions  of  the  inhabitants 
were  aroused  to  the  highest  pitch  of  fury.  Early  in 
the  afternoon  a  crowd  began  to  gather  around  the 
building,  and  a  little  before  three  Mr.  Garrison  ap 
peared,  got  through  the  crowd,  and  took  his  seat,  ex 
pecting  to  address  the  ladies  of  the  society,  of  which 
quite  a  large  number  had  assembled.  As  the  time 
drew  near  the  crowd  increased,  and  with  it  increased 
the  intensity  of  the  tumultuous  excitement.  Mr. 
Garrison  now  stepped  towards  the  door  of  the  hall, 
through  which  some  had  entered  and  commenced 
making  disturbance,  and  very  cautiously  requested 
them  to  withdraw,  stating  that  it  was  a  ladies'  meet 
ing,  and  no  gentlemen  were  expected  to  be  present 


WILLIAM    LLOYD    GARRISON.  117 

but  the  speakers.  This  had  no  effect,  however,  and 
Mr.  Garrison  then  mentioned  to  the  president  of  the 
society  that  since  his  own  presence  would  evidently 
increase  the  tumult,  it  would  be  advisable  for  him  to 
leave,  to  which  she  assented.  "With  an  intimate 
friend  he  now  withdrew  to  the  anti-slavery  office, 
which  was  separated  from  the  hall  by  a  thin  partition 
only,  and  commenced  writing  to  an  acquaintance  an 
account  of  the  riot.  The  mob  soon  increased  to  thou 
sands,  filling  the  hall ;  the  danger  became  immi 
nent  that  they  would  break  through  into  the  office 
and  destroy  the  publications  of  the  society.  The 
lower  panel  of  the  door  was  now  broken  through  by 
3iie  of  the  ringleaders,  who,  looking  in,  exclaimed, 
"There  he  is — that's  Garrison;  out  with  the  scoun 
drel  ! "  Upon  this,  the  person  with  him  walked  out, 
locked  the  door  after  him,  and  put  the  key  in  his 
pocket.  The  mayor,  having  at  length  cleared  the 
hall  of  the  crowd,  begged  the  ladies  to  desist,  and 
assured  them  that  he  could  no  longer  protect  them 
from  insult  and  violence,  upon  which  they  adjourned 
to  the  house  of  one  of  their  number  to  finish  their 
business. 

The  mayor  then  addressed  the  rioters  ;  told  them 
that  the  anti-slavery  meeting  was  broken  up  ;  that 
Mr.  Thompson  was  not  there,  and  urged  them  to  dis 
perse.  But  having  got  rid  of  these  objects  they  felt 
the  more  liberty  to  give  exclusive  attention  to  Mr. 


US  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

Garrison,  and  }Telled  his  name,  loudly  crying,  "  We 
must  have  him!  lynch  him!  lynch  him!"  The 
mayor,  seeing  that  he  had  lost  all  control  over  the  mob, 
besought  Mr.  Garrison  to  make  his  escape  at  the  rear 
of  the  building,  since  he  could  not  get  through  the 
crowd  to  the  street.  Just  at  this  juncture  his  devo 
tion  to  his  principles  were  so  self- forgetting  as  to  de 
mand  special  notice.  A  non-resistant  brother  near 
him,  seeing  the  danger,  declared  his  determination  to 
renounce  these  views  upon  the  spot,  and  use  forcible 
measures  for  his  preservation.  But  Mr.  Garrison 
earnestly  protested  against  such  a  course  in  the  fol 
lowing  language  :  "  Hold,  my  dear  brother  ;  you 
know  not  what  spirit  you  are  of;  do  you  wish  to  be 
come  like  one  of  these  violent  and  bloodthirsty  men, 
who  are  seeking  my  life  ?  Shall  we  give  blow  for 
blow,  and  array  sword  against  sword  ?  God  forbid ! 
I  will  perish  sooner  than  raise  my  hand  against  any 
man,  even  in  self-defense,  and  let  none  of  rny  friends 
resort  to  violence  for  my  protection.  If  my  life  be 
taken  the  cause  of  emancipation  will  not  suffer,"  &c. 
Even  in  this  hour  of  extremest  peril,  his  devotion  to 
principles  which  in  the  hour  of  quiet  he  believed 
right,  rose  with  the  danger  almost  to  the  sublime. 
While  all  around  was  in  an  uproar,  and  his  friends  were 
shivering  with  fear,  his  faith  in  an  Omnipotent  arm 
was  strongest.  Preceded  by  a  friend,  at  the  peril  of 
his  life,  he  dropped  from  the  window  to  the  ground, 


WILLIAM    LLOYD    GARRISON.  119 

and  attempted  to  escape  through  Wilson's  Lane,  but 
was  circumvented  by  the  mob.  Again  he  retreats 
tip  stairs,  and  was  secreted  for  a  few  minutes  behind 
a  pile  of  boards,  but  being  discovered  by  the  ruffians, 
his  friends  effected  an  escape.  They  now  dragged 
Garrison  to  the  window,  evidently  intending  to  pitch 
him  that  distance  to  the  ground,  but  upon  second 
thought,  concluded  not  to  kill  him  outright,  they 
placed  a  rope  around  his  body,  apparently  designing 
to  drag  him  through  the  streets.  Reaching  the 
ground  by  a  ladder,  he  disengaged  himself  from  the 
rope,  and  was  seized  by  two  or  three  of  the  most  pow 
erful  of  the  rioters  and  dragged  along  bareheaded. 
Blows  were  aimed  at  his  head,  and  at  length  his 
clothing  was  nearly  torn  from  him.  Insulted  by  the 
jeers  of  the  mob,  in  a  denuded  condition,  he  reached 
State-street,  in  front  of  the  city  hall,  and  now  there 
was  a  tremendous  rush  to  prevent  his  entering  that 
building.  With  the  help  of  his  posse  and  friends,  the 
mayor  finally  succeeded  in  getting  him  to  his  office, 
where  he  was  reclothed  by  individuals  from  the  post- 
office,  immediately  below. 

The  mayor  and  his  advisers  there  declared  that  the 
only  safety  lay  in  committing  him  to  jail  as  a  dis 
turber  of  the  public  peace  !  A  hack  was  brought  to 
the  door  for  the  purpose,  but  the  scene  that  ensued 
defies  description.  The  surging  mob  rushed  upon 
the  carriage  with  ungovernable  fury,  and  attempted 


120  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

every  kind  of  violence.  The  windows  were  broken 
in,  the  attempt  was  made  to  overset  the  vehicle^  but 
the  driver  wielded  his  whip  with  such  dexterity,  first 
upon  the  horses  and  then  upon  the  rioters,  that  he 
got  clear,  and  drove  for  the  prison.  Failing  to  reach 
there  in  advance  of  the  ruffians,  he  drove  circuitously 
about,  and  by  a  back  passage  Mr.  Garrison  was  at 
length  beyond  the  reach  of  danger,  within  the  iron 
gratings.  Even  here  his  spirit  was  unfettered,  and 
upon  the  walls  of  his  cell  he  inscribed  the  following 
lines : 

"  When  peace  within  the  bosom  reigns, 
And  conscience  gives  the  approving  voice, 

Though  bound  the  human  form  in  chains, 
Yet  can  the  soul  aloud  rejoice. 

Tis  true,  my  footsteps  are  confined — 
I  cannot  range  beyond  this  cell ; 
But  what  can  circumscribe  my  mind? — 
To  chain  the  winds  attempt  as  well ! 

"  Confine  me  as  a  prisoner — but  bind  me  not  as  a  slave. 
Punish  me  as  a  criminal — but  hold  me  not  as  a  chattel 
Torture  me  as  a  man — but  drive  me  not  as  a  beast. 
Doubt  my  sanity — but  acknowledge  my  immortality." 

After  a  mock  examination  he  was  released  from 
prison,  but,  at  the  earnest  request  of  the  authorities, 
he  left  the  city  until  the  tumult  had  subsided.  Thus 
ended  a  mob  in  that  city  containing  the  "  Cradle  of 
Liberty,"  which  first  rocked  for  freedom  to  the  tune 


WILLIAM   LLOYD    GARRISON.  121 

of  "  Hail  Columbia,"  the  echo  of  which  made  tyrants 
tremble.  Throughout  the  whole  transaction,  Mr. 
Garrison  retained  that  coolness  and  presence  of  mind 
which,  evinced  upon  the  battle  field,  in  pursuit  of 
that  poor  bubble,  glory,  wins  for  its  aspirants  undy 
ing  fame,  earth's  immortality.  The  same  devotion 
to  human  liberty  which  Garrison  here  manifested, 
when  displayed  by  the  actors  in  the  drama  of  the 
American  revolution,  caused  a  thrill  of  animation  the 
world  over  ;  but  when  evinced  in  behalf  of  the  down 
trodden  African,  it  assumes  the  name  of  fanaticism. 
Mr.  Garrison  has  been  severely  criticised  as  an  am 
bitious  man  ;  we  know  of  no  better  method  of  dis 
proving  it,  than  to  remark,  that  aspirants  for  honor 
are  apt  to  strike  out  for  themselves  other  paths  of 
distinction  than  those  leading  through  scenes  like  the 
above.  There  are  a  few  noble  thoughts  from  Whit- 
tier  which  are  in  point  here,  and  which  give  the 
opinion  of  that  sound  man  and  earnest  poet  in  regard 
to  Mr.  Garrison's  character.  They  were  addressed 

TO  WILLIAM  LLOYD  GARRISON. 

Champion  of  those  who  groan  beneath 

Oppression's  iron  hand, 
In  view  of  penury,  hate  and  death, 

I  see  thee  fearless  stand  ; 
Still  bearing  up  thy  lofty  brow, 

In  the  steadfast  strength  of  truth, 
In  manhood  sealing  well  the  vow 

And  promise  of  thy  youth. 

F 


122  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

Go  on  I — for  thou  hast  chosen  well ; 

On  in  the  strength  of  God! 
Long  as  the  human  heart  shall  swell 

Beneath  the  tyrant's  rod. 
Speak  in  a  slumbering  nation's  ear, 

As  thou  hast  ever  spoken, 
Until  the  dead  in  sin  shall  hear — 

The  fetter's  link  be  broken  I 


I  love  thee  with  a  brother's  love — 

I  feel  my  pulses  thrill, 
To  mark  thy  spirit  soar  above 

The  cloud  of  human  ill ; 
My  heart  hath  leaped  to  answer  thine, 

And  echo  back  thy  words, 
As  leaps  the  warrior's  at  the  shine 

And  flash  of  kindred  swords! 


They  tell  me  thou  art  rash  and  vain — 

A  searcher  after  fame; 
That  thou  art  striving  but  to  gain 

A  long-enduring  name ; 
That  thou  hast  nerved  the  Afric's  hand, 

And  steeled  the  Afric's  heart, 
To  shake  aloft  his  vengeful  brand, 

And  rend  his  chain  apart. 

Have  I  not  known  thee  well,  and  read 

Thy  mighty  purpose  long, 
And  watched  the  trials  which  have  made 

Thy  human  spirit  strong? 
And  shall  the  slanderer's  demon  breath 

Avail  with  one  like  me, 
To  dim  the  sunshine  of  my  faith, 

And  earnest  trust  in  thee  ? 


WILLIAM    LLOYD    GARRISON.  123 

Go  on ! — the  dagger's  point  may  glare 

Amid  thy  pathway's  gloom — 
The  fate  which  sternly  threatens  there, 

Is  glorious  martyrdom  ! 
Then  onward,  with  a  martyr's  zeal — 

Press  on  to  thy  reward — 
The  hour  when  man  shall  only  kneel 

Before  his  Father — God. 

But  since  we  have  commenced  quoting,  we  will 
will  give  a  specimen  of  his  fierce,  denunciatory  style 
of  writing,  which  appeared  in  an  editorial  upon  the 
Union.  It  is  also  a  good  opportunity  to  show  his 
peculiar  position  upon  the  slavery  question  : 

"  Tyrants  !  confident  of  its  overthrow,  proclaim  not  to  your 
vassals,  that  the  American  Union  is  an  experiment  of  freedom, 
which,  if  it  fail,  will  forever  demonstrate  the  necessity  of  whips 
for  the  backs,  and  chains  for  the  limbs  of  the  people.  Know 
that  its  subversion  is  essential  to  the  triumph  of  justice,  the  de 
liverance  of  the  oppressed,  the  vindication  of  the  brotherhood 
of  the  race.  It  was  conceived  in  sin,  and  brought  forth  in  in 
iquity  ;  and  its  career  has  been  marked  by  unparalleled  hypoc 
risy,  by  high-handed  tyranny,  by  a  bold  defiance  of  the  omnis 
cience  and  omnipotence  of  God.  Freedom  indignantly  dis 
owns  it,  and  calls  for  its  extinction  ;  for  within  its  borders  are 
three  millions  of  slaves,  whose  blood  constitutes  its  cement, 
whose  flesh  forms  a  large  and  flourishing  branch  of  its  com 
merce,  and  who  are  ranked  with  four-footed  beasts  and  creep 
ing  things.  To  secure  the  adoption  of  the  constitution  of  the 
United  States,  first,  that  the  African  slave-trade — till  that  time 


124:  MODEEN    AGITATORS, 

a  feeble,  isolated,  colonial  traffic—  -should,  for  at  Ivast  i \u-nty 
years,  be  prosecuted  as  a  national  interest,  under  the  American 
flag,  and  protected  by  the  national  arm  ;  secondly,  that  a  slave- 
holding  oligarchy,  created  by  allowing  three-fifths  of  the  slave- 
holding  population  to  be  represented  by  their  task-masters, 
should  be  allowed  a  permanent  seat  in  congress ;  thirdly,  that 
the  slave  system  should  be  secured  against  internal  revolt  and 
external  invasion,  by  the  united  physical  force  of  the  country ; 
fourthly,  that  not  a  foot  of  national  territory  should  be  granted, 
on  which  the  panting  fugitive  from  slavery  might  stand,  and  be 
safe  from  his  pursuers,  thus  making  every  citizen  a  slave-hunter 
and  slave-catcher.  To  say  that  this  '  covenant  with  death' 
shall  not  be  annulled — that  this  'agreement  with  hell'  shall 
continue  to  stand — that  this  'refuge  of  lies'  shall  not  be  swept 
away — is  to  hurl  defiance  at  the  eternal  throne,  and  to  give  the 
lie  to  Him  that  sits  thereon.  It  is  an  attempt,  alike  monstrous 
and  impracticable,  to  blend  the  light  of  heaven  with  darkness 
of  the  bottomless  pit,  to  unite  the  living  with  the  dead,  to  as 
sociate  the  Son  of  God  with  the  Prince  of  Evil.  Accursed  be 
the  American  Union,  as  a  stupendous,  republican  imposture ! " 

It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  such  a  writer 
should  be  accused  of  harshness  and  severity.  En 
glish  cannot  be  rendered  with  greater  force  and  en 
ergy  than  he  combines  it  to  express  his  views  upon 
this  subject.  But  hear  him  criticise  his  critics  : 

"  I  am  accused  of  using  hard  language.  I  admit  the  charge. 
I  have  not  been  able  to  find  a  soft  word  to  describe  villainy,  or 
to  identify  the  perpetrator  of  it.  The  man  who  makes  a  chattel 


WILLIAM    LLOYD   GARRISON.  125 

of  his  brother — what  is  he  1  The  man  who  keeps  back  the 
hire  of  his  laborers  by  fraud — what  is  he  ?  They  who  pro 
hibit  the  circulation  of  the  bible — what  are  they  1  They  who 
compel  three  millions  of  men  and  women  to  herd  together  like 
brute  beasts — what  are  they  ?  They  who  sell  mothers  by  the 
pound,  and  children  in  lots  to  suit  purchasers — what  are  they  ? 
I  care  not  what  terms  are  applied  to  them,  provided  they  do 
apply  1  If  they  are  not  thieves,  if  they  are  not  tyrants,  if  they 
are  not  men-stealers,  I  should  like  to  know  what  is  their  true 
character,  and  by  what  names  they  may  be  called.  It  is  as 
mild  an  epithet  to  say  that  a  thief  is  a  thief,  as  to  say  that  a 
spade  is  a  spade.  Words  are  but  the  signs  of  ideas.  '  A  rose 
by  any  other  name  would  smell  as  sweet.'  Language  may 
be  misapplied,  and  so  be  absurd  or  unjust ;  as  for  example,  to 
say  that  an  abolitionist  is  a  fanatic,  or  that  a  slaveholder  is  an 
honest  man.  But  to  call  things  by  their  right  names  is  to  use 
neither  hard  nor  improper  language.  Epithets  may  be  rightly 
applied,  it  is  true,  and  yet  be  uttered  in  a  hard  spirit,  or  with 
a  malicious  design.  What  then  1  Shall  we  discard  all  terms 
which  are  descriptive  of  crime,  because  they  are  not  always 
used  with  fairness  and  propriety  ?  He  who,  when  he  sees  op 
pression,  cries  out  against  it — who,  when  he  beholds  his  equal 
brother  trodden  under  foot  by  the  iron  hoof  of  despotism, 
rushes  to  his  rescue — who,  when  he  sees  the  weak  overborne 
by  the  strong,  takes  sides  with  the  former,  at  the  imminent 
peril  of  his  own  safety — such  a  rnan  needs  no  certificate  to  the 
excellence  of  his  temper,  or  the  sincerity  of  his  heart,  or  the 
disinterestedness  of  his  conduct.  Or  is  the  apologist  of  slavery, 
he  who  can  see  the  victim  of  thieves  lying  bleeding  and  help- 


12  G  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

less  on  the  cold  earth,  and  yet  turn  aside,  like  the  callous-hearted 
priest  and  Lcvite,  who  needs  absolution." 

Upon  the  same  subject  he  says  again  : 

"Let  us  speak  plain  ;  there  is  more  force  in  names 
Than  most  men  dream  of;  and  a  lie  may  keep 
Its  throne  a  whole  age  longer,  if  it  skulk 
Behind  the  shield  of  some  fair-seeming  name. 
Let  us  call  tyrants,  tyrants,  and  maintain 
That  only  freedom  comes  by  grace  of  God, 
And  all  that  comes  not  by  his  grace  must  fall, 
For  men  in  earnest  have  no  time  to  waste 
In  patching  fig-leaves  for  the  naked  truth. 

"  Let  us  call  tyrants,  tyrants  ;  not  to  do  so  is  to  misuse 
language,  to  deal  treacherously  with  freedom,  to  consent  to  the 
enslavement  of  mankind.  It  is  neither  an  amiable  nor  a  virtu 
ous,  but  a  foolish  and  pernicious  thing,  not  to  call  things  by 
their  right  names.  '  Woe  unto  them,'  says  one  of  the  world's 
great  prophets,  '  that  call  evil  good,  and  good  evil ;  that  put 
darkness  for  light,  and  light  for  darkness ;  that  put  bitter  for 
sweet,  and  sweet  for  bitter.' " 

His  own  power  in  stinging  criticism  is  well  dis 
played,  and  there  is  an  expression  of  severe  purity 
and  uprightness  upon  it.  In  his  social  relations  he 
is  said  to  be  an  exceedingly  amiable  man,  a  kind  and 
loving  husband  and  father.  His  purity  of  character 
is  irreproachable.  Not  a  whisper  was  ever  raised  by 
his  worst  enemy  against  his  private  character. 

As  an  orator  he  does  not  occupy  a  very  high  posi- 


WILLIAM    LLOYD    GARRISON.  T27 

tion.  He  lacks  the  graces  of  oratory — is  too  severe 
in  his  style  of  speaking.  Yet  in  spite  of  these  disad 
vantages  he  often  speaks  with  tremendous  power.  It 
is  by  simple  force  of  the  ideas  he  utters.  He  uses 
an  iron  logic,  and  his  earnestness  is  so  intense  that  it 
arrests  the  attention  of  the  hearer  as  effectually  as 
the  natural  graces  of  oratory.  We  think  there  is  no 
humor  in  his  writings  or  speeches — he  is  too  solemnly 
in  earnest  for  that ;  but  as  a  man  and  companion  he 
by  no  means  lacks  geniality  of  character. 

We  presume  that  there  is  no  living  American  who 
is  such  a  victim  to  the  adverse  prejudices  of  the  peo 
ple  as  William  Lloyd  Garrison,  but  we  have  faith  to 
believe  that  in  the  future  his  name  will  be  glorious, 
when  those  of  the  majority  of  his  cotemporaries  will 
have  been  forgotten. 


JOHN  B.  GOUGH. 

THE  history  of  the  temperance  reformation  in  the 
United  States  is  intimately  associated  with  that  of  a 
few  prominent  individuals.  At  an  early  period  in 
the  enterprise,  we  shall  find  the  account  of  the  Wash- 
ingtonian  movement,  in  which  John  Hawkins  ap 
peared,  heading  the  reform  ranks,  himself  but  just 
escaped  the  drunkard's  grave.  His  star  was  hardly 
in  its  zenith,  when  a  new  one  of  greater  magnitude 
appeared  in  the  eastern  part  of  Massachusetts,  the 
rays  of  which  have  reached  every  portion  of  the  Uni 
ted  States,  lit  the  extinguished  lamp  of  hope  in  ten 
thousand  bosoms,  and  has  since  gone  to  kindle  the 
flames  of  reform  in  the  Old  World.  John  B.  Gough 
was  born  in  Sandgate,  county  of  Kent,  England,  in 
August,  1817.  His  father  had  been  a  soldier  in  the 
Peninsular  war,  and  at  the  birth  of  this  son  was  liv 
ing  upon  a  small  pension  at  home.  Accustomed  to 
the  severe  discipline  of  the  army,  his  nature  possessed 
few  attractions  for  a  youth  like  John  ;  yet  it  is  inter 
esting  to  trace  thus  early  in  his  life  the  strength  of 
his  imagination,  which  held  him  breathless  by  the 
hour  while  his  father  was  relating  the  story  of  the 


JOHN    B.    GOUGH.  129 

seige  of  Corunna,  or  the  burial  of  Sir  John  Moore. 
His  mother  was  a  gentle,  lovely  woman,  whose  affec 
tions  early  twined  themselves  around  her  only  son, 
and  whose  spirit,  like  a  guardian  angel,  followed  him 
down  through  every  grade  of  vice,  and  finally  ex 
erted  more  influence  than  anything  else  to  induce 
him  to  a  life  of  temperance  and  sobriety. 

The  humble  circumstances  of  his  parents  did  not 
admit  of  a  very  extensive  education  for  their  son,  yet 
in  the  school  which  he  attended  he  seems  to  have  ac 
quired  a  distinction  equivalent  to  that  of  a  monitor. 
His  unusual  abilities,  however,  manifested  themselves 
at  a  very  early  period,  for  his  skill  in  reading  at 
tracted  the  attention  of  Wilberforce,  and  he  received 
from  him  a  small  book  as  a  tribute  to  his  talents. 
About  this  time  he  received  a  wound  in  his  head,  the 
effects  of  which  he  has  felt  through  life.  It  was  con 
sidered  dangerous  for  weeks,  but  he  recovered  appa 
rently,  although  he  attributes  his  unfortunate  relapse 
at  a  later  period  to  the  internal  injury. 

At  the  age  of  twelve  years,  in  company  with  a 
family  from  his  native  place,  he  embarked  for  Amer 
ica  ;  he  describes  the  parting  with  his  parents,  and 
especially  with  his  mother,  in  a  manner  very  affect 
ing.  So  loth  was  she  to  part  with  him,  that  she  fol 
lowed  him  to  the  vessel,  though  she  could  ill  afford 
it,  and  finally,  bathing  him  in  tears,  committed  him 
to  God,  and  left  him.  In  the  morning  the  vessel  was 
V*  9 


130  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

far  from  land,  and  he  was  left  alone,  to  win  or  lose  in 
the  game  of  life.  After  remaining  eight  weeks  in 
New  York  city,  he  started  with  the  family  for  West 
ern  New  York.  During  his  stay  at  this  place,  he 
became  the  subject  of  serious  religious  impressions, 
and  joined  the  Methodist  Episcopal  church.  Not 
thinking  that  he  was  doing  well  enough  here,  how 
ever,  in  two  years,  with  the  permission  of  his  father, 
he  left  for  New  York.  Here  he  apprenticed  himself 
to  learn  the  book-binding  business,  for  two  and  one- 
quarter  dollars  per  week,  boarding  himself.  While 
here  he  was  under  very  good  influences,  and  united 
with  the  church  in  Allen-street.  Circumstances  af 
terward  occurred,  under  which,  he  decided  to  leave 
that  place  for  another,  in  which  he  was  more  exposed 
to  temptation.  Being  still  successful  in  saving  a  lit 
tle,  he  sent  for  his  friends  to  join  him,  from  England, 
and  after  a  time  he  was  informed  of  the  arrival  of  his 
mother  and  sister,  whom  he  found,  and  together  they 
engaged  rooms  and  went  to  house-keeping.  In  the 
following  winter  they  were  reduced  to  the  lowest  de 
gree  of  poverty,  so  as  to  suffer  for  the  necessaries  of 
life.  He  mentions  with  much  gratitude  the  circum 
stances  that  some  kind  stranger  gave  him  a  three 
penny  loaf  of  bread,  when  in  great  want,  and  says 
that  he  went  to  the  neighboring  country  to  pick  up 
fuel  for  their  use,  notwithstanding  which  they  suf 
fered  severely  from  the  cold. 


JOHN  B.  GOUGII.  131 

In  the  spring  of  1831,  following,  work  improved, 
and  their  circumstances  were  relieved ;  still  they  oc 
cupied  but  one  room,  close  beneath  a  hot  roof,  and 
their  condition  was  deplorable.  In  the  succeeding 
hot  season  he  lost  his  mother,  and  he  gives  the  his 
tory  of  that  event  in  the  following  touching  language  : 

"  And  now  comes  one  of  the  most  terrible  events  of  my  life, 
'an  event  which  almost  bowed  me  to  the  dust.  The  summer 
of  1834  was  exceedingly  hot;  and  as  our  room  was  immedi 
ately  under  the  roof,  and  had  but  one  small  window  in  it,  the 
heat  was  almost  intolerable,  and  my  mother  suffered  much  from 
this  cause.  On  the  8th  of  July,  a  day  more  than  unusually 
warm,  she  complained  of  debility,  but  as  she  had  before  suf 
fered  from  weakness,  I  was  not  apprehensive  of  danger,  and 
saying  I  would  go  and  bathe,  asked  her  to  provide  me  some 
rice  and  milk  against  seven  or  eight  o'clock,  when  I  should  re 
turn.  That  day  my  spirits  were  unusually  exuberant.  I 
laughed  and  sung  with  my  young  companions,  as  if  not  a  cloud 
was  to  be  seen  in  all  my  sky,  when  one  was  then  gathering 
which  was  shortly  to  burst  in  fatal  thunder  over  my  head. 
About  eight  o'clock  I  returned  home,  and  was  going  up  the 
steps,  whistling  as  I  went,  when  my  sister  met  me  at  the  thresh 
old,  and  seizing  me  by  the  hand,  exclaimed,  l  John,  mother's 
deadf  What  I  did,  what  I  said,  I  cannot  remember;  but 
they  told  me  afterward,  I  grasped  my  sister's  arm,  laughed 
frantically  in  her  face,  and  then  for  some  minutes  seemed 
stunned  by  the  dreadful  intelligence.  As  soon  as  they  per 
mitted  me,  I  visited  our  garret,  now  a  chamber  of  death,  and 


132  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

there,  on  the  floor,  lay  all  that  remained  of  her  whom  I  had 
loved  so  well,  and  who  had  been  a  friend  when  all  others  had 
fonaken  me.  There  she  lay,  with  her  face  tied  up  with  a 
handkerchief: 

'By  foreign  hands  her  aged  eyes  were  closed; 
By  foreign  hands  her  decent  limbs  composed." 

"  Oh,  how  vividly  came  then  to  my  mind,  as  I  took  her  cold 
hand  in  mine  and  gazed  earnestly  in  her  quiet  face,  all  her 
meek,  enduring  love,  her  uncomplaining  spirit,  her  dcvotedness 
to  her  husband  and  children.  All  was  now  over;  and  yet,  as 
through  the  livelong  night  I  sat  at  her  side,  a  solitary  watcher 
by  the  dead,  I  felt  somewhat  resigned  at  the  dispensation  of 
Providence,  that  she  was  taken  from  the  'evil  to  come,'" 

The  burial,  too,  he  thus  eloquently  describes : 

"There  was  no  'pomp  and  circumstance'  about  that  humble 
funeral ;  but  never  went  a  mortal  to  the  grave  who  had  been 
more  truly  loved,  and  was  then  more  sincerely  lamented,  than 
the  silent  traveler  toward  Potter's  Field,  the  place  of  her  inter 
ment.  Only  two  lacerated  and  bleeding  hearts  mourned  for 
her;  but  as  the  almost  unnoticed  procession  passed  through 
the  streets,  tears  of  more  genuine  sorrow  were  shed  than  fre 
quently  fall,  when 

'Some  proud  child  of  earth  returns  to  dust. 

"We  soon  reached  the  bury  ing-ground.  In  the  same  cart 
with  my  mother  was  another  mortal  whose  spirit  had  put  on 
immortality.  A  little  child's  coffin  lay  beside  that  of  her  who 
had  been  a  sorrowful  pilgrim  for  many  years,  and  both  no\v 


JOHN  B.  GOUGH.  133 

were  about  to  lie  side  by  side  in  the  narrow  house.  When 
the  infant's  coffin  was  taken  from  the  cart,  my  sister  burst  into 
tears,  and  the  driver,  a  rough-looking  fellow,  with  a  kindness 
of  manner  that  touched  us,  remarked  to  her,  '  Poor  thing,  'tis 
better  off  where  'tis.'  I  undeceived  him  in  his  idea  as  to  this 
supposed  relationship  of  the  child,  and  informed  him  that  it  was 
not  the  child,  but  our  mother  for  whom  we  mourned.  My 
mother's  coffin  was  then  taken  out  and  placed  in  a  trench,  and 
a  little  dirt  was  thinly  sprinkled  on  it.  So  was  she  buried." 

Nature  had  given  to  Mr.  Gotigh  a  good  musical 
voice,  and  considerable  mimicking  powers,  which  his 
companions  now  began  to  discover.  Indeed,  we  may 
say,  that  from  this  time  onward,  his  course  was  stead 
ily  down,  down  to  the  lowest  depth  of  degradation  in 
drunkenness.  Habits  of  dissipation  were  steadily 
growing  upon  him,  and  though  he  received  good 
wages,  yet  he  squandered  them  in  low  company 
amid  scenes  of  bacchanalian  revelry.  He  now  com 
menced  performing  the  lower  parts  in  comedies,  at 
the  Franklin  theater,  and  siii£rin<r  comic  son<rs,  for 

'  ~         O  CD     " 

which  his  talents  fitted  him  admirably.  About  this 
time  his  employer  was  burnt  out  in  New  York,  and 
Gough  lost  most  of  his  clothes  and  movables.  His 
employer  proposed  moving  to  Rhode  Island,  and  in 
vited  Gough  to  go  with  him,  which  invitation  he  ac 
cepted.  Soon  after  the  removal  he  became  ac 
quainted  with  a  company  of  actors  from  Providence, 
by  whose  request  he  became  one  of  their  number. 


134:  MODERN    AGITATO  US. 

In  this  business  his  ventriloquial  powers  were  called 
into  action,  and  for  a  while  he  gave  himself  up  to  the 
stage  almost  entirely.  His  anticipations  were  soon 
after  again  doomed  to  disappointment  through  a  fail 
ure  in  his  remuneration. 

After  wandering  about  some  time  in  a  wretched 
condition,  he  obtained  a  situation  as  a  comedian  for 
a  theater  in  Boston.  This  occupation  he  followed 
until  the  theater  closed  in  1837,  when,  as  he  says,  he 
"was  thrown,  like  a  foot-ball,  upon  the  world's  great 
highway."  Through  the  assistance  of  a  kind  woman 
he  obtained  decent  board,  and  again  was  furnished 
employment  at  his  old  trade.  All  this  he  continued 
till  he  was  a  little  more  than  twenty  years  of  age, 
when  his  appearance  became  so  shabby  that  his  em 
ployer  turned  him  out  of  work.  Hearing,  however, 
of  a  situation  in  Newburyport,  he  pushed  for  it  with 
all  haste,  and  for  a  time  tried  successfully  to  abstain 
from  liquor ;  but  the  evil  demon  still  followed  him, 
and  forming  acquaintances  with  the  members  of  an 
engine  company,  his  old  habits  were  resumed,  and 
he  became  worse  than  ever.  His  case  now  seemed 
utterly  hopeless,  and  work  failing,  he  started  on  a 
coasting  excursion  in  a  fishing  smack,  when  in  a 
storm  he  nearly  lost  his  life.  Preserved  by  a  change 
of  weather  almost  miraculous,  he  narrowly  escaped 
drowning  a  second  time,  by  the  hoisting  of  a  small 
boat  on  board  of  the  vessel,  in  the  bottom  of  which 


JOHN  E.  COUGH.  135 

he  lay  intoxicated.  The  violence  with  which  they 
hoisted  one  end  of  the  boat  threw  him  into  the  other, 
and  it  being  so  dark  that  the  sailors  failed  to  observe 
him,  he  barely  saved  his  life  by  an  outcry  which 
alarmed  the  seamen,  and  they  took  him  on  board. 
By  this  voyage  he  obtained  sufficient  money  to  buy 
some  furniture,  and  he  married  the  sister  of  the  cap 
tain  with  whom  he  had  sailed.  Again  he  became 
steady  for  a  while,  and  went  to  church,  and  almost 
began  to  cherish  a  slight  hope  of  reform ;  but  the 
overpowering  strength  of  that  monster  habit  was  too 
much  for  his  resolutions,  and  again  he  went  down 
lower  than  ever.  Even  the  young  men  who  had 
been  half-decent  companions  in  drinking,  began  to 
be  ashamed  of  him,  and  avoid  his  society.  The  ob 
livion  which  followed  these  reflections  was  that  of 
the  wine  cup.  His  nature,  sensitive  to  the  slightest 
suspicion  of  ill-treatment,  could  not  endure  the  cold 
ness  of  those  who  had  laughed  loudest  at  his  sport 
when  in  better  circumstances,  and  he  sought  relief 
in  the  intoxicating  bowl.  Through  the  exertions  of 
a  friend  in  Newburyport,  an  Englishman,  he  was 
again  partially  reclaimed  only  to  fall  again,  and  now 
his  constitution  began  to  be  impaired  by  his  debauch 
eries.  He  became  so  nervous  that,  drunk  or  sober, 
he  was  unable  to  do  the  finer  parts  of  book  bind 
ing  and  gUding.  He  resorted  to  the  most  miserable 
expedients  to  keep  up  an  appearance  of  decency,  but 


136  MODERN    AGITATOKS. 

each  successively  was  a  more  signal  failure.  His 
wife  now  left  him  on  a  visit  to  his  sister,  and  he  was, 
if  possible,  more  free  to  carouse  than  ever.  He 
bought  a  gallon  of  rum,  and  invited  a  fellow  in  to 
help  him  drink  it,  and  for  three  days  he  subsisted 
upon  rum:  alone,  without  a  morsel  of  food. 

But  for  thus  abusing  his  system,  retribution,  though 
tardy,  was  terrible.  We  have  followed  him  from 
one  step  to  another,  till  now  he  was  to  encounter 
that  fearful  malady,  delirium  tremens.  After  having 
drank  a  great  amount  of  liquor,  his  throat  becoming 
more  parched  and  his  tongue  more  dry  by  each  ap 
plication  of  the  stimulant,  a  horrible  feeling,  hitherto 
unknown  to  him,  began  to  be  experienced.  He 
sought  relief  in  the  use  of  tobacco,  but  not  being 
able  to  stand  up  to  light  a  match,  ignited  it  while 
lying  upon  the  bed,  lit  his  pipe  and  threw  the  match 
carelessly  by.  Yery  soon  the  narcotic  effect  of  the 
tobacco  displayed  itself,  and  he  slept  till  the  neigh 
bors,  alarmed  by  the  smell  and  smoke,  came  into  the 
room  and  aroused  him  from  a  lethargy  which  in  fif 
teen  minutes  more  would  have  been  fatal.  Thus 
aroused,  he  went  out  and  purchased  a  pint  of  rum, 
which  lie  drank  in  half  an  hour,  when  he  was  seized 
by  a  violent  attack  of  the  disease  above  alluded  to. 
For  three  days  he  was  tortured  seemingly  with  a 
visit  from  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  infernal  regions. 

o 

Hideous  faces  stared  from  out  beneath  shaggy  locks, 


JOHN   li.    GOPQH.  137 

horrid  phantoms  floated  through  the  air,  and  clutched 
their  bony  fingers  at  his  throat.  Frightful  sounds 
issued  from  every  object,  and  demons  from  Pande 
monium  seemed  holding  a  horrible  jubilee  about  their 
Buffering  victim. 

But  strange  as  it  may  seem,  he  recovered,  and  tells 
us  that  upon  surveying  his  features,  haggard  and 
pale,  in  a  glass,  he  thought  of  his  mother !  After 
spending  some  time  in  reflection  upon  the  prayers 
and  tears  which  she  had  poured  forth  for  him,  the  in 
struction  which  she  had  given  him,  he  went  out  and 
took  a  glass  of  brandy  ;  another  and  another  followed 
till  he  was  again  intoxicated.  Yet  again  he  found 
employment  as  an  actor,  in  which  employment  he 
continued,  till  from  debauchery  he  was  too  worthless 
to  be  of  service,  when  they  reprimanded  him  so  se 
verely  that  he  became  angry,  and  upon  the  strength 
of  it  attended  to  the  business.  Thus  it  continued  for 
a  while,  when  he  again  sought  his  old  avocation,  and 
managed  to  conceal  his  drunkenness  sufficiently  to 
retain  his  situation.  His  wife  becoming  ill  about 
this  time,  by  the  advice  of  friends,  he  purchased  two 
quarts  of  rum,  so  as  to  have  some  in  the  house  if 
needed,  and  he  soon  found  use  for  it :  after  ten  days 
his  wife  and  child  both  died,  and  then  he  drank  to 
forgetfulness.  At  times,  however,  in  his  deepest  deg 
radation,  the  spirit  of  his  mother  seemed  to  beckon 
him  to  reform.  He  thus  beautifully  alludes  to  it: 


138  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

"  And  through  the  mists  of  memory  my  mother's  face  would 
often  appear,  just  as  it  was  when  I  stood  by  her  knee  and  lis 
tened  to  the  lessons  of  wisdom  and  goodness  from  her  loving 
lips.  I  would  see  her  mild,  reproving  face,  and  seem  to  hear 
her  warning  voice ;  and  surrounded  by  my  riotous  compan 
ions,  at  certain  seasons  reason  would  struggle  for  the  throne 
whence  she  had  been  driven,  and  I  would,  whilst  enjoying  the 
loud  plaudits  of  companions, 

'See  a  hand  they  could  not  see, 
Which  beckoned  me  away.' " 

We  have  reached  the  lowest  point  in  his  history — 
indeed,  he  or  any  man  could  have  gone  no  lower. 
He  was  habitually  intoxicated,  keeping  partially  so 
ber  only  when  necessary  to  obtain  the  means  for  ob 
taining  a  supply  of  spirits.  The  most  wretched  out 
cast  in  Boston  felt  above  him,  and  his  life  was  a  bur 
den  to  himself.  Had  it  not  been  for  that  instinctive 
clinging  to  an  existence  whose  terrors  wre  know,  and 
the  instinctive  dread  of  future  horrors  we  apprehend 
may  be  worse,  he  would  doubtless  have  committed 
suicide.  He  felt,  and  in  his  bitterness  exclaimed, 
that  "  no  man  cared  for  his  soul."  His  prospects 
were  utterly  ruined,  his  reputation  gone,  his  wife 
and  child  dead,  and  he  realized  that  deep  loneliness 
which  none  can  feel  but  they  who  have  been  in  his 
isolated  position.  His  constitution  was  also  greatly 
impaired  by  abuse  and  by  the  attack  of  delirium, 


JOHN  B.  GOUGH.  139 

His  was  a  most  wretched  and  hopeless  case.  But  a 
great  work  was  yet  before  him — a  work  in  which 
his  natural  powers  of  mind,  hitherto  partially  devel 
oped,  should  have  full  scope  upon  the  work  of  reform 
and  humanity.  Experience  was  to  him  a  dear  school 
master,  but  just  the  one  needed  to  fit  him  for  his 
great  life's  work.  In  order  to  paint  those  glowing 
pictures  in  after  life  so  successfully  as  to  draw  the 
admiration  of  listening  thousands,  he  must  himself 
pass  through  the  scenes  which  his  pencil  would  por 
tray.  He  must  feel  the  deadly  clasp  of  the  tyrant 
from  whose  embrace  he  would  free  others,  and  expe 
rience  for  himself  the  utter  wretchedness  of  the  ine 
briate  whom  he  would  reclaim.  To  his  own  personal 
acquaintance  with  these  things  must  we  trace  that 
startling  reality  which  he  made  the  soul,  the  life  of 
his  pictures,  when  a  lecturer. 

In  the  month  of  October,  1842,  he  was  wandering 
hopelessly  through  the  streets  of  Worcester,  Massa 
chusetts,  reflecting  upon  his  deplorable  condition, 
when  some  one  tapped  him  gently  upon  the  shoulder, 
and  said  in  a  mild  voice,  as  he  looked  around,  "  Mr. 
Gough,  I  believe."  "That  is  rny  name,"  replied  he; 
upon  which  the  stranger  entered  into  conversation 
with  him  about  his  dissipated  habits,  and  questioned 
him  kindly  about  his  prospects  for  the  future.  Mr. 
Gough  told  liim  his  circumstances,  mentioned  that  he 
was  tired  of  life,  and  cared  not  how  soon  he  should 


140  MODEKX    AGITATORS. 

die,  or  whether  he  should  die  drunk  or  sober ;  that 
since  he  despaired  of  ever  being  anything  to  the 
world,  it  was  immaterial  to  him  how  or  how  soon  he 
left  it.  Then,  for  the  first  time  in  years,  words  of 
true  sympathy  and  encouragement  greeted  his  ear, 
like  the  offer  of  assistance  to  a  drowning  man.  All 
the  better  feelings  of  his  nature  were  aroused,  and  a 
faint  glimmering  of  light  reached  him.  The  stranger, 
Mr.  Joel  Stratton,  of  Worcester,  told  him  of  the  pledge, 
how  many  had  been  saved  by  it  from  a  doom  as  deep 
as  his,  and  concluded  by  asking  him  to  come  to  the 
temperance  meeting  at  the  hall  the  next  evening,  and 
join  the  society.  Mr.  Gough  promised  to  do  so,  and 
the  stranger  having  left  him,  he  went  for  a  glass  of 
brandy,  which  he  drank,  and,  following  it  by  three 
more,  went  home  in  a  thorough  state  of  drunkenness. 

O 

Still,  when  he  became  sober,  he  remembered  his 
promise  to  attend  the  meeting,  and  determined  to 
fulfill  it ;  throughout  the  day  he  occasionally  moist 
ened  his  throat  with  that  which  would  only  render 
it  the  more  parched,  but  when  evening  came  he  was 
tolerably  sober.  With  his  ragged  dress  covered  by 
an  old  surtout  buttoned  to  the  chin,  he  started  for 
the  meeting.  Seating  himself  with  others  in  the 
same  condition,  he  waited  till  an  opportunity  was 
given,  and  then  for  the  first  time  related  his  experi 
ence  as  a  drunkard.  This  was  his  first  address,  and 
was  probably  received  like  that  of  hundreds  in  like 


JOHN  E.  GOUGII.  Ill 

circumstances,  but  did  not  attract  particular  atten 
tion.  Having  signed  the  pledge  with"  a  firm  resolve 
to  be  a  man  again,  he  summoned  all  his  energies  to 
the  task  of  subduing  that  fierce  appetite  which  had 
hitherto  known  no  restraint.  He  went  home  and  to 
bed,  but  not  to  sleep.  He  was  so  fully  conscious  of 
the  strength  of  that  foe  against  which  he  was  to  con 
tend,  that  the  dread  of  the  fearful  struggle  would  not 
allow  of  rest.  All  night  he  tossed  in  feverish  excite 
ment,  and  in  the  morning  arose  with  a  fierce  fire  in 
his  brain  and  torturing  thirst  in  his  throat.  He  ral 
lied  all  the  resolution  he  .was  master  of  behind  that 
pledge  as  the  fortress  of  his  sincerity ;  he  knew  that 
while  the  enemy  could  be  kept  from  breaking  over 
that,  he  was  safe,  and  while  that  position  was  un car 
ried  he  felt  a  deep  joy  in  the  consciousness  that  he  was 
a  man,  and  that  even  he  might  succeed.  On  the  fol 
lowing  day  he  went  to  his  workshop,  reeling  with 
weakness,  and  there  received  from  a  temperance  friend 
a  word  of  encouragement  which  cheered  him  to  perse 
vere  and  strengthened  his  hope.  But  the  demon  whose 
sway  he  had  owned  so  long  was  not  thus  easy  to  lose 
his  victim.  As  a  natural  effect  of  breaking  off  so 
suddenly  the  long  continued  use  of  so  great  a  stimu 
lus,  he  was  thrown  into  a  second  attack  of  delirium 
tremens.  In  speaking  of  it  afterward  he  thus  de 
scribes  it: 


142  MODEKN    AGITATORS. 

"  Fearful  was  that  struggle.  God  in  his  mercy  forbid  that 
any  other  young  man  should  endure  but  a  tenth  part  or  the 
torture  which  racked  my  frame  and  agonized  my  heart.  I 
seemed  to  have  a  knife  with  a  hundred  blades  in  my  hand, 
every  blade  driven  through  the  flesh  of  my  hands,  and  all  were 
so  inextricably  bent  and  tangled  together  that  I  could  not  with 
draw  them  for  some  time ;  and  when  I  did,  from  my  lacerated 
fingers  the  bloody  fibers  would  stretch  out  all  quivering  with 
life.  A  great  portion  of  the  time  I  spent  alone  ;  no  mother's 
hand  was  near  to  wipe  the  big  drops  of  perspiration  from  my 
brow ;  no  kind  voice  cheered  me  in  my  solitude." 

This  attack  lasted  him  a  week,  when  he  gradually 
recovered,  his  health  improved,  and  he  began  to  get 
about ;  but  he  was  thin  and  pale,  his  features  haggard 
and  worn,  and  his  whole  system  deeply  debilitated. 
Yet  his  resolution  never  wavered,  and  the  determina 
tion  to  conquer  never  faltered  ;  he  knew  that,  physi 
cally,  the  severest  part  of  the  struggle  was  over,  and 
he  resolved  that  his  mental  fortitude  should  hold  out 
while  life  remained. 

A  short  time  after  his  recovery,  he  was  invited  to 
speak  in  a  small  school-house,  on  which  occasion  he 
delivered  his  first  regular  temperance  address,  fifteen 
minutes  or  more  in  length.  His  circumstances  being 
yet  much  reduced,  he  was  obliged  to  wear  his  over 
coat  as  before,  buttoned  tightly  to  conceal  his  rags, 
and  there  being  a  rousing  fire  in  the  room,  he  was 
nearly  roasted  before  he  had  finished.  We  have  al- 


JOHN  B.  GOUGH.  143 

luded  to  the  incident  in  order  to  show  more  fully  the 
unfavorable  auspices  under  which  he  commenced  his 
career  as  a  public  speaker. 

But  his^talent  was  no  longer  to  remain  buried  in 
the  earth,  for  God  had  called  him  to  a  high  and  holy 
work,  as  the  champion  of  reform.  His  brilliant  tal 
ents'  as  an  orator  began  to  attract  attention,  and  at 
the  earnest  solicitation  of  friends  he  procured  permis 
sion  of  absence  from  his  employers,  leaving  a  job 
partly  finished,  which  he  promised  to  complete  in 
two  weeks.  But  he  never  saw  the  books  again  ;  he 
had  commenced  a  career  which  was  to  end  only  with 
his  life,  and  book-binding  was  quitted  forever.  It 
was  so  long  since  he  had  worn  a  decent  suit  of 
clothes,  that  his  awkwardness  in  them  shall  be  told 
by  himself: 

"The  pantaloons  were  strapped  down  over  feet  which  had 
long  been  used  to  freedom,  and  I  feared  to  walk  in  my  usual 
manner,  lest  they  should  give  at  the  knee.  I  feared,  too,  lest  a 
strap  should  give  and  make  me  lop-sided  for  life ;  the  swarthy 
cut  coat  was  so  neatly  and  closely  fitted  to  the  arms,  and  the 
shoulders,  and  the  back,  that  when  it  was  on,  I  felt  in  a  fix,  as 
well  as  a  fit.  I  was  fearful  of  anything  but  mincing  motion, 
and  my  arms  had  a  cataleptic  appearance.  Every  step  I  took 
was  a  matter  of  anxiety,  lest  an  unlucky  rip  should  derange 
my  smartness.  Verily,  I  felt  more  awkward  in  my  new  suit 
than  did  I  while  roasting  before  the  fire  in  my  old  one." 


14:4:  MODEKN    AGITATOKS. 

His  engagements  now  rapidly  increased,  and  he 
was  called  upon  to  address  full  houses  everywhere  in 
that  vicinity.  The  star  of  his  reputation  had  finally 
got  above  the  clouds  which  obscured  its  rising ;  its 
light  began  to  be  seen,  and  its  influence  to  be  felt, 
when  it  was  subject  to  a  short  eclipse.  Upon  his  con 
stitution,  emerging  from  the  debility  of  sickness  and 
prostration,  five  months  of  constant  lecturing  had 
worn  with  great  severity.  That  pain  in  his  head 
which  had  returned  periodically  with  more  or  less 
violence  since  the  blow  received  in  youth,  now  vis 
ited  him  with  renewed  severity,  causing  for  a  time  a 
partial  derangement.  This  occurred  on  the  way  to 
Worcester,  while  under  an  engagement  to  lecture  in 
that  vicinity.  In  addition  to  this  cause  was  a  con 
stant  hemorrhage  from  the  stomach,  with  long  con 
tinned  nervous  excitement,  want  of  rest,  and  loss  of 
appetite.  Hardly  conscious  of  what  he  was  doing, 
instead  of  preparing  for  the  evening  lecture,  he  took 
the  cars  for  Boston.  Under  this  irresistible  impulse 
he  went  to  the  theater,  and  then  fell  in  with  some  of 
his  old  companions,  who,  noticing  something  out  of 
the  way,  inquired  what  was  the  matter,  and  invited 
him  to  go  in  and  get  some  oysters.  He  went,  and 
being  offered  a  glass  of  brandy,  without  a  thought  or 
reflection  drank  it  off.  The  old  appetite  once  aroused, 
was  not  satisfied  without  two  or  three  glasses  more, 
and  in  that  state  he  retired  to  his  hotel.  In  the 


JOHN  B.  GOUGH.  145 

morning  lie  took  the  cars  for  Newbtiryport,  tlience 
back  to  Boston,  and  from  there  to  Worcester,  where 
he  had  an  appointment ;  meeting  with  his  friends,  he 
frankly  told  them  the  whole  ;  how  as  from  a  cloudless 
sky  the  bolt  had  fallen,  and  begged  their  forgiveness. 
It  was  not  a  time  for  them  to  give  him  up,  and  they 
rallied  around  him  with  encouragement  and  sympa 
thy.  Instead  of  being  discouraged,  he  resolved  to 
derive  new  benefit  from  the  lesson  received,  and 
wage  the  warfare  with  more  vigor  than  ever.  His 
field  of  labor  was  now  the  larger  towns  in  the  New 
England  states,  in  which  he  labored  continually  for  a 
number  of  months.  After  this  he  was  urged  to  speak 
in  Boston,  where  he  drew  large  houses,  and  finally 
the  largest  were  insufficient  to  contain  the  crowds 
that  were  entranced  by  his  oratory. 

In  the  autumn  of  1843  he  was  again  married,  and 
remained  in  Boston  and  the  vicinity  during  that  win 
ter.  In  the  May  following,  having  received  invita 
tions  to  lecture  in  the  largest  cities  of  the  middle  atid 
western  states,  he  started  in  company  with  Mr.  Grant 
on  a  tour  more  widely  extended  than  he  had  hitherto 
attempted. 

He  was  now  fairly  upon  the  stage  as  a  speaker,  and 
some  account  of  his  appearance  may  not  be  out  of 
place.  He  is  about  medium  height,  slender,  with 
a  look  of  care  upon  his  countenance.  Time  has  pre 
maturely  furrowed  his  brow,  and  sorrow  and  hard- 
G  10 


14:0  MODERN    AGITATOliS. 

ships  left  their  indelible  footprints.  His  tempera 
ment  is  nervous  and  sanguine,  and  his  constitution, 
naturally  strong,  has  become  weakened  by  disease. 

As  he  takes  his  seat  quietly  upon  the  platform,  a 
stranger  would  not  select  him  for  a  man  of  great 
power,  yet  under  the  arching  brow,  shaded  by  care 
less  locks  of  dark,  flowing  hair,  his  fine  rolling  eye 
cannot  fail  to  excite  a  deep  interest  on  the  part  of  the 
beholder.  Not  until  lie  rises  to  his  address  is  one- 
impressed  with  his  wonderful  talents.  He  com 
mences  deliberately  and  distinctly,  seeming  uncon 
scious  of  his  power,  but  as  he  becomes  interested  in 
his  subject  he  grows  more  fervent  and  earnest,  till  at 
length  he  seems  hurried  only  to  keep  pace  with  the 
rapid  evolutions  of  his  own  mind  ;  every  thought  be 
comes  a  bolt  from  the  hot  furnace  of  his  brain,  and 
wrought  into  sentences,  they  fall  with  the  rapidity, 
and  we  might  almost  add,  with  the  effect  of  light 
ning.  The  sympathetic  influence  is  imperceptibly 
communicated  to  his  audience,  until  at  length  they 
are  entirely  under  his  control.  They  are  interested 
in  whatever  interests  him ;  the  man  is  forgotten,  and 
nothing  is  felt  but  the  passionate  impulse  of  an  ab 
sorbing  mind.  You  surrender  your  judgment,  emo 
tions,  sensibilities,  in  fact  your  whole  being,  to  a  do 
minion  which  is  irresistible,  and  would  wonder,  if  you 
could  stop  to  wonder,  at  your  own  lack  of  self-gov 
ernment.  Still  he  hurries  you  onward  ;  now  some 


JOHN  B.  GOUGH.  14:7 

scene  of  woe  has  received  a  coloring  so  vivid  from 
the  pencil  of  his  imagination,  that  before  you  are 
aware,  tears  have  answered  to  the  fervor  of  his  ap 
peal  ;  the  next  instant  the  whale  scene  is  changed, 
and  some  grotesque  figure  stands  forth  in  an  attitude 
so  ludicrous  that  you  are  convulsed  with  laughter. 
This  strength  of  imagery  is  no  better  exhibited  than 
in  his  comparison  of  the  young  man's  danger  from 
intemperance  to  the  boat  rushing  down  the  cataract 
of  Niagara.  We  give  it  in  his  own  language  : 

"I  remember  riding  near  Niagara  Falls,  and  I  said  to  a  gen 
tleman,  'What  river  is  that,  sir ?'  'That,'  he  said,  'is  Niag 
ara  river.'  '  Well,'  said  I,  '  it  is  a  beautiful  stream,  bright,  and 
fair,  and  glassy  :  how  far  off  are  the  rapids  ?  '  *  About  a  mile 
or  two,'  was  the  answer.  '  Is  it  possible,'  1  said,  '  that  only  a 
mile  from  us  we  shall  find  the  water  in  such  turbulence,  as  I 
presume  it  must  be,  near  the  falls  ?  '  '  You  will  find  it  so,  sir.' 
And  so  I  found  it ;  and  that  first  sight  of  the  Niagara  I  shall 
never  forget.  Now  launch  your  bark  on  that  Niagara  river ; 
it  is  bright,  smooth,  beautiful,  and  glassy  ;  there  is  a  ripple  at 
the  bow  ;  the  silvery  lake  you  leave  behind  you  adds  to  your 
enjoyment ;  down  the  stream  you  glide ;  you  have  oars,  sails, 
and  helm  prepared  for  every  contingency,  and  you  set  out  on 
your  pleasure  excursion.  Some  one  comes  out  from  the  bank, 
'  Young  men,  ahoy  ! '  '  What  is  it  1 '  '  The  rapids  are  below 
you.'  '  Ha,  ha !  we  have  heard  of  the  rapids  below  us,  but 
we  are  not  such  fools  to  get  into  them.  When  we  find  we  are 
going  too  fast  to  suit  our  convenience,  then  hard  up  the  helm, 


148  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

and  steer  to  the  shore ;  when  we  find  we  are  passing  a  given 
spot  too  rapidly,  we  will  set  the  mast  in  the  socket,  hoist  the 
sail  and  speed  to  land.  We  are  not  alarmed  by  the  danger.' 
'  Young  men,  ahoy  !  The  rapids  are  below  you.'  '  Ha,  ha  ! 
we  will  laugh  and  quaff;  all  things  delight  us.  What  care  we 
for  the  future !  No  man  ever  saw  it.  Sufficient  unto  the  day 
is  tho  evil  thereof.  We  will  enjoy  life  while  we  may,  and 
catch  pleasure  as  it  flies.  This  is  enjoyment ;  it  is  time  enough 
to  steer  out  of  danger  when  we  find  we  are  swiftly  sailing  with 
the  current.'  '  Young  men,  ahoy  ! '  What  is  it  1 '  '  The  rap 
ids  are  below  you  ! '  Now  you  see  the  water  foaming  all 
around ;  see  how  fast  you  pass  the  point !  Now  turn !  pull 
hard !  quick,  quick  !  Pull  for  your  life !  Pull  till  the  blood 
starts  from  your  nostrils,  and  the  veins  stand  like  whipcords 
upon  the  brow !  Set  the  mast  in  the  socket !  Hoist  the  sail ! 
Ha,  ha !  it  is  too  late  !  Shrieking,  cursing,  howling,  blas 
pheming,  over  you  go  !  And  thousands  thus  go  over  by  the 
power  of  evil  habit,  declaring  all  the  while,  '  When  I  find  out 
that  it  is  injuring  me,  then  I  will  give  it  up.'" 

Here  lies  Mr.  Gougli's  great  strength ;  he  is  a  per 
fect  orator.  Whatever  his  vivid  imagination  grasps, 
he  paints  before  you  with  startling  reality ;  the  awk 
ward  appears  intensely  ludicrous,  the  homely  scares 
yon,  the  disagreeable  becomes  hateful,  and  the  ugly 
fiendish.  By  a  touch  of  the  same  magic  wand,  the 
interesting  becomes  beautiful,  and  the  lovely  is  trans 
formed  into  the  angelic.  His  metaphors  always  seem 
the  best  adapted  to  the  object  which  he  would  illus- 


JOHN  B.  OOUGH. 

trate,  and  when  he  has  finished  the  picture,  perfec 
tion  asks  nothing  more. 

Mr.  Gough's  oratory  has  none  of  the  classical  fin 
ish  of  Burke,  the  stinging  satire  of  Pitt,  or  the  mas 
sive  grandeur  of  Webster;  but  it  flows  onward  like 
a  strong  mountain  torrent,  its  surface  now  flashing 
with  the  star-light  of  wit,  then  dark  with  the  heaving 
billows  of  passion,  but  always  possessing  a  power  ir 
resistible.  What  early  education  omitted  in  his  dis 
cipline,  experience  has  recompensed  ;  what  he  failed 
to  acquire  in  the  schoolhouse  of  boyhood,  he  learned 
in  the  school  of  life.  To  an  originality  of  conception 
in  thought,  nature  has  added  the  perfect  ability  of  a 
mimic,  so  that  his  scope  is  not  limited  to  one  subject 
or  to  one  method  of  treating  it.  He  possesses  a  fine 
musical  voice  which  prepossesses  one  in  his  favor, 
and  relieves  the  monotony  too  frequent  in  a  discourse  ; 
altogether,  he  is  one  of  the  most  fascinating  speakers 
we  have  heard.  Some  parts  of  his  orations,  like  that 
above  quoted,  appear  well  in  print,  but  usually  their 
beauty  lies  in  his  inimitable  manner  of  delivery  ;  he 
never  writes  an  oration,  but  having  acquired  an  off- 
hand  habit,  the  natural  consequence  is  a  disconnect 
edness  of  style  which  would  appear  imperfect  as  a 
whole ;  nevertheless,  we  find  in  his  speeches  occa 
sional  passages  which  cannot  easily  be  excelled  in  the 
language  for  touching  pathos,  or  bewitching  beauty. 
After  all,  descriptions  do  not  touch  him  ;  he  must  be 


150  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

heard  and  seen  to  be  appreciated.  He  came  in  a 
time  when  lie  was  most  needed,  when  the  mere  ex 
perience  of  the  reformed  inebriate  was  becoming 
threadbare.  His  stirring  appeals  aroused  the  flag 
ging  strength  of  the  cause,  and  reanimated  its  adhe 
rents.  Once  only,  the  devices  of  fiends  for  a  short 
time  prevailed,  and  by  means  of  a  drugged  mixture 
administered  under  the  guise  of  friendship,  he  was 
drawn  from  the  path  of  rectitude ;  but  being  re 
claimed  by  his  friends,  he  has  ever  since  been  a  more 
uncompromising  foe  to  rum  drinking  than  ever. 
When  the  idea  of  totally  restraining  the  traffic  in 
intoxicating  drinks  was  developed  in  the  Maine  law, 
it  found  in  him  a  firm  supporter  and  zealous  advo 
cate.  To  the  great  work  of  the  temperance  reforma 
tion  he  has  consecrated  his  life,  and  for  its  welfare 
he  hesitates  not  to  sacrifice  the  best  energies  of  his 
being.  When  intemperance  shows  its  monster  head 
he  is  ready  to  strike  a  blow  at  his  life.  He  has  now 
crossed  the  ocean,  and  is  lecturing  to  the  benighted 
millions  of  Europe,  speaking  words  of  encouragement 
to  the  fainting,  and  assisting  the  slave  of  the  wine- 
cup  in  high  places  and  in  low  to  break  the  thralldom 
which  enchains  him,  and  become  free.  !Nb  one  with 
out  his  experience  could  have  done  his  work ;  and 
we  do  not  hesitate  to  rank  him  among  the  most  dis 
tinguished  of  American  reformers. 


CHARLES  G.  FIXSET. 

IT  is  astonishing  how  many  different  appearances 
are  given  of  an  eminent  person  by  different  biogra 
phers.  In  reading  Scott's  or  Alison's  history  of  Na 
poleon,  we  should  never  dream  that  he  was  anything 
but  a  tyrannical  usurper  wading  through  seas  of 
blood  to  the  throne  of  the  world  ;  while  in  the  account 
of  Mr.  Abbott  we  see  but  a  stern  and  resolute  pa 
triot,  who  from  the  sense  o:'  duty  unwillingly  offered 
human  sacrifices  upon  the  altar  of  his  country.  WQ 
have  noticed  the  same  shade  of  difference  in  various 
representations  of  the  subject  of  the  present  sketch. 
One  of  these  was  a  late  memoir  of  Dr.  Xettleton, 
containing  allusions  to  Mr.  Finney,  which  we  shall 
refer  to  again,  remarking  here  that  there  is  perhaps 
no  man  of  the  same  religious  eminence  living,  about 
whom  society  at  large  has  as  great  variety  of  opin 
ions  as  of  President  Finney.  Political  squabbles, 
though  of  not  half  the  importance,  have  always  taken 
a  more  vital  hold  of  society  in  general  than  theolo 
gical  discussions,  and  it  is  owing  perhaps  to  the  rea 
son  that  the  true  position  of  this  distinguished  theo 
logian  is  no  better  known  to  the  world.  Having  ta 
ken  some  pains  to  investigate  and  ascertain  the  facts 


152  MODERN    AGITATOKS. 

in  regard  to  his  character,  we  hope  to  give  it  a  fail 
delineation  in  the  following  paragraphs. 

Charles  G.  Finney  was  born  in  Litchfield  county, 
in  the  year  1792.  Two  years  after,  his  parents,  who 
were  in  moderate  circumstances,  removed  to  "  the 
Black  river  country,"  New  York,  with  their  family, 
where  Mr.  Finney  spent  the  years  of  his  childhood. 
His  character  as  a  leader  began  to  develop  itself  in 
~outh  ;  in  sports  his  associates  ranked  him  among 
the  foremost,  yet  in  school  he  was  studious,  and  it  is 
remarked  by  an  early  acquaintance,  that  mathemat 
ics  was  to  him  but  a  recreation.  By  the  intense 
vigor  of  his  intellect  he  was  enabled  to  master  easily 
what  other  boys  did  only  by  close  application,  and 
he  found  considerable  time  to  wield  the  sledge  at  his 
father's  anvil.  Here  he  took  his  first  lesson  in  mould 
ing  the  hot  iron  to  a  desired  shape,  and  here  he  first 
felt  in  his  own  breast  the  glowings  of  a  tire  which 
should  send  forth  glowing  truths,  to  arouse  men  from 
the  slumbers  of  carnal  security,  and  light  the  tires  of 
reform.  Here  he  learned  the  force  of  one  strong 

o 

arm  under  the  control  of  a  brave  heart  and  clear  in 
tellect,  and  while  his  physical  system  was  gaining 
muscular  strength  from  continual  action,  his  mind 
was  as  constantly  acquiring  an  energy  no  less  needed 
to  prepare  him  for  his  great  work.  At  the  age  of 
twenty  he  returned  to  Connecticut  and  commenced 
teaching  a  day-school  and  giving  instruction  in  music, 


CUAKLES  G.  F1NNKY.  153 

at  which  lie  gained  considerable  reputation.  lie  sub 
sequently  returned  to  New  York,  and  entered  upon 
the  study  of  law,  which  he  completed  honorably  ; 
was  admitted  to  the  bar,  and  practiced  for  a  time  in 
that  state.  Up  to  this  period,  though  not  wild,  lie 
had  paid  no  particular  personal  attention  to  religious 
subjects.  He  was  what  is  called  a  strictly  moral 
man,  but  now  being  led  to  a  more  thoughtful  con 
templation  of  divine  truth  and  the  claims  of  God 
upon  him,  he  perceived  that  his  life  had  been  one  of 
rebellion  and  sin ;  and,  yielding  to  the  powerful  con 
victions  of  the  Divine  Spirit,  he  submitted  his  whole 
being  to  God. 

His  plans  and  purposes  now  took  a  new  direction, 
and  he  consecrated  himself  to  the  ministry.  After 
studying  theology  one  year  at  Auburn  Seminary,  at 
the  age  of  thirty  he  commenced  preaching  as  an 
Evangelist,  in  the  larger  cities  of  New  York.  It  was 
during  the  powerful  revival  that  attended  this  por 
tion  of  his  ministry  that  he  and  Dr.  Asahel  Nettleton 
came  somewhat  into  collision. 

Dr.  Nettleton  was  nine  years  older  than  Mr.  Fin- 
ney,  and  had  then  been  laboring  as  an  evangelist  for 
twenty-one  years,  principally  in  New  York,  Connect 
icut,  and  Massachusetts.  He  was  a  preacher  of  al 
together  a  different  character  from  Mr.  Finney,  be 
ing  mild  and  persuasive,  and  had  won  the  affections 
of  the  people  among  whom  he  had  labored  and  doubt- 


MODERN    AGITATORS. 

less  been  exceedingly  useful.  He  was  now  worn 
with  the  excitement  and  toil  of  twenty  years  of  ac 
tivity,  and  was  unable  to  go  on  with  the  work.  To  an 
impartial  observer  it  would  seem  that  God  had  raised 
up  Mr.  Finney  for  the  express  purpose  of  filling  his 
place.  Many  hearts  had  become  hardened  by  long 
continued  repetition  of  the  same  truths  in  much  the 
same  style,  and  there  was  need  of  a  new  energy  and 
power  in  the  delivery  of  the  truth,  to  make  it  effect 
ive.  In  saying  this,  we  do  not  speak  forgetfully  of 
other  means,  and  especially  of  the  Divine  influence, 
but  God  has  ordered  that  the  success  of  his  kingdom 
shall  depend  to  a  certain  extent  upon  human  instru 
mentalities,  and  in  the  economy  of  grace  they  are  as 
much  needed  as  some  inducements  presented  only 
by  a  divine  power.  The  earnest  fervor  of  Mr.  Fin 
ney,  accompanying  his  lucid  expositions  of  the  re 
quirements  of  God's  law,  constituted  him  the  man 
for  the  emergency,  and  he  applied  himself  to  the 
work  with  a  zeal  which  won  for  him  and  his  adhe 
rents  the  name  of  "  Western  Wild  Fires."  But,  to 
refer  to  the  biography  before  spoken  of,  which  al 
ludes  to  Mr.  Finney  in  a  manner  quite  unkind  and 
uncourteous,  to  say  the  least :  It  characterizes  the 
work  of  grace  in  which  Mr.  Finney  was  engaged  as 
a  "  great  religious  excitement ; "  accuses  him  of 
"  harshness  and  severity  ;  "  says  that  "  multitudes 
were  reported  as  subjects  of  renewing  grace,"  and 


CHARLES  G.  FINNKY.  155 

leaves  upon  every  mind  the  impression  that  the  great 
est  and  worst  part  of  truth  had  been  left  unsaid ;  it 
closes  with  this  remark  :  "  that  very  many  of  the  re 
ported  converts  were  like  the  stony-ground  hearers, 
who  endured  only  for  a  time,  few,  I  presume,  will  at 
this  day  be  disposed  to  deny."  Certainly,  but  is  it 
not  so  in  every  revival?  Are  not  " many  called,  but 
few  chosen?"  Is  there  any  evidence  that  less  were 
savingly  converted  than  in  the  corresponding  labors 
of  Mr.  Nettleton  ?  The  real  cause  of  the  difficulty  is 
betrayed  in  the  following  rather  careless  sentence  : 
"  He  (Dr.  Nettleton)  found  that  Mr.  Finney  was  un 
willing  to  abandon  certain  'measures  which  he  had 
ever  regarded  as  exceedingly  calamitous  to  the  cause 
of  revivals  ;  "  and  because  "  certain  measures  "  did 
not  meet  with  the  approbation  of  Dr.  ISTettleton,  he 
was  necessitated  to  use  his  influence  against  the 
whole  work.  In  this  opposition  he  was  sustained  by 
numbers  who  either  objected  to  the  same  measures, 
or  were  of  different  theological  sentiments,  or,  for 
some  reason,  disliked  the  man.  "We  will  further 
quote  from  a  letter  of  Dr.  Nettleton  to  a  friend,  writ 
ten  in  January,  1827.  It  will  show  what  results  Dr. 
Nettleton  found  fault  with,  and  who  were  really  to 
blame  for  those  results.  He  says,  "  We  do  not  call 
in  question  the  genuineness  of  those  revivals,  or  the 
purity  of  the  motives  of  those  who  have  been  the 
most  active  in  them.  You  doubtless  are  reaping  and 


156  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

rejoicing  in  their  happy  fruits ;  but  the  evils  to  which 
I  allude  are  felt  by  the  churches  abroad,  numbers  of 
which  have  gone  out  to  catch  the  spirit,  and  have  re 
turned,  some  grieved,  others  soured,  and  denouncing 
ministers,  colleges,  theological  seminaries,  and  have 
set  whole  churches  by  the  ears,  and  kept  them  in 
turmoil  for  months  together." 

Is  the  blame,  then,  to  be  attached  to  the  principal 
preacher,  or  to  the  individuals  who  went  home  dis 
contented  and  prejudiced?  When,  in  a  multitude 
of  instances,  the  Almighty  had  set  his  seal  to  the 
work,  is  it  to  be  considered  spurious  because  a  num 
ber  of  individuals  could  not  extend  to  it  their  appro 
bation  ?  We  find  it  stated  on  reliable  authority,  that 
"Dr.  Nettleton  afterward  repented  of  his  rashness," 
and  although  he  had  been  aforetime  very  successful 
in  his  ministry,  his  usefulness  seemed  to  die  when  he 
came  out  so  bitterly  against  Mr.  Finney.  Dr.  Ly- 
man  Beecher  wrote  to  Dr.  Nettleton,  who  had  been 
sick  about  a  year,  that  "his  sickness  seemed  a  judg 
ment  upon  him  for  his  opposition  to  Mr.  Finney  ;  if 
we  are  not  able  to  keep  up  with  the  boys,  why,  let 
them  go  ahead  ;  we  will  follow  on  and  do  what  good 
we  can."  In  alluding  to  the  matter,  President  Fin 
ney  remarks,  "I  never  had  much  to  do  with  him  in 
any  way." 

The  work  in  which  Mr.  Finney  was  engaged  pro 
gressed  rapidly,  and  great  success  attended  his  ef- 


CIIARLLS    U.  FINNKY.  15V 

forts.  His  knowledge  of  human  law  made  him  more 
acute  in  perceiving,  and  ready  in  interpreting  the  di 
vine  law.  His  first  volume  of  sermons  was  published 
in  1835,  but  some  or  all  of  them  must  have  been  writ 
ten  eight  or  nine  years  before,  at  the  time  of  these 
revivals.  The  impenitent  man  who  could  fail  to  be 
aroused  by  such  appeals  as  fill  these  lectures,  must 
have  been  already  stupefied  by  that  torpor  which  is 
the  precursor  of  eternal  death.  By  their  vigor  and 
thrilling  earnestness,  thousands  who  had  never  be 
fore  given  a  thought  to  the  subject  of  religion,  were 
awakened,  and  renouncing  the  service  of  Satan,  en 
tered  the  Christian  church.  There  are  before  us  no 
statistics  of  the  actual  addition  to  the  different  de 
nominations,  but  it  is  certain  that  no  revivals  since 
the  days  of  Edwards,  were  nearly  as  productive  of 
benefit  to  the  churches,  in  whose  vicinity  they  oc 
curred.  In  company  with  "  Father  Nash,"  as  fellow- 
laborer,  he  discharged  the  duties  of  a  successful  evan 
gelist  in  Rochester,  Utica,  Koine,  Auburn,  Buffalo, 
Troy,  Boston,  and  New  York  city,  and  various  other 
places  of  considerable  importance. 

In  1832,  Mr.  Finney  was  settled  over  the  Chatham- 
street  chapel,  in  New  York  city,  where  he  discharged 
the  duties  of  the  pastoral  office  acceptably  for  two 
years.  He  then  removed  to  the  Tabernacle  church, 
where  he  ministered  for  three  years.  In  1835,  when 
he  had  been  pastor  of  the  Tabernacle  one  year,  he 


158  MODERN    AGITATO!^. 

was  elected  professor  of  theology,  at  Oberlin,  Ohio, 
and  after  two  years,  finding  the  double  duties  too 
much  for  his  health,  he  resigned  the  charge  of  the 
church  in  New  York,  and  removed  to  Oberlin.  In 
1836,  he  published  "  Sermons  on  important  subjects," 
and  "  Lectures  to  Christians,"  in  1837.  In  the  course 
of  the  next  four  years  he  published  three  other  works, 
entitled,  "  Sanctification,"  "  Revival  Letters,"  and 
"Skeletons  upon  the  subject  of  Moral  Government." 
From  the  time  he  left  New  York,  he  was  engaged  in 
professional  duties  at  Oberlin,  and  preaching  in  dif 
ferent  cities  in  the  Union,  for  a  number  of  years.  In 
1846  and  1847  he  issued  his  comprehensive  work 
upon  Systematic  Theology,  in  two  octavo  volumes. 
They  are  the  second  and  third  of  the  series.  In  re 
ference  to  the  absence  of  the  first,  Professor  Finriey, 
in  his  preface  to  the  second  volume,  says,  "  I  have 
begun  with  the  second  volume,  as  this  was  to  be  on 
subjects  so  distinct  from  what  will  appear  in  the  first, 
that  this  volume  might  as  well  appear  first,  and  be 
cause  it  seemed  especially  called  for  just  now,  to  meet 
a  demand  of  the  church,  and  of  my  classes."  Any 
comment  from  us  upon  these  works  might  appear  as 
suming,  and  perhaps  arrogant.  The  public  are  aware 
of  the  nature  of  the  subjects  therein  discussed,  and 
of  his  mode  of  discussion.  Professor  Finney  has 
brought  to  the  work  a  maturity  of  mind,  a  strength 
of  purpose,  and  a  logical  acumen  which  is  seldom 


CHARLES  G.  FINNEY.  159 

found.  Professor  Hodge,  in  his  ill-fated  review  of 
them,  says :  "  The  work  is,  therefore,  in  a  high  de 
gree  logical.  It  is  as  hard  to  read  as  Euclid.  No 
thing  can  be  omitted  ;  nothing  passed  over  slightly. 
*  *  *  It  is  like  one  of  those  spiral  stair-cases, 
which  lead  to  the  top  of  some  high  tower,  without  a 
landing  from  the  base  to  the  summit.  The  author 
begins  with  certain  postulates,  or  what  he  calls  first- 
class  truths  of  reason,  and  these  he  traces  out  with 
singular  clearness  and  accuracy  to  their  legitimate 
conclusions.  We  do  not  see  that  there  is  a  break  or 
defective  link  in  the  whole  chain ;  if  you  grant  his 
premises,  you  have  already  granted  his  conclusions." 
The  article  by  Professor  Hodge,  in  the  Princeton 
Biblical  Repository  for  June,  1847,  is  the  most  like 
an  attempt  to  combat  Mr.  Finney  of  anything  we 
have  seen,  and  this  is  an  attempt  only  in  appearance. 
After  admitting  that  his  premises  must  be  wrong,  or 
his  conclusions  right,  one  would  suppose  that  unless 
Professor  Hodge  could  deny  successfully  the  premi 
ses,  he  must  feel  the  force  of  the  arguments,  and  ad 
mit  the  conclusions  and  positions  established  thereby. 
But  no,  he  does  nothing  of  the  kind  ;  seeing  no  place 
upon  all  the  battle-Held  where  he  could  erect  a  bat 
tery,  he  retreats  behind  the  overthrown  castle  of  Old 
School  Presbyterianism,  and  barks  Tat  the  author.  It 
is  indeed  a  pastime  for  a  curious  man  to  compare  the 
work  reviewed  with  the  Review,  to  see  how  infinitely 


160  MODERN    AGITATOHS. 

behind  the  one  the  other  is  in  logic,  in  power  of  rea 
soning,  and  in  intellectual  perception.  Professor 
Finney,  with  surprising  ease  and  clearness,  traces  out 
principles  which  his  reviewer,  after  close  application 
and  untiring  diligence,  comprehends  much  as  a  school 
boy  half  perceives  the  beauty  of  an  intricate  geomet 
rical  demonstration.  He  is  evidently  just  as  far  be 
hind  Mr.  Finney  in  metaphysical  disquisition  and  in 
tellectual  apprehension  as  the  schoolboy  is  behind 
Euclid  in  mathematics  ;  and  the  beauty  of  it  is,  that 
this  truth  is  so  obvious  to  every  one.  Professor 
Hodge  acknowledges  in  the  first  place  that  he  can 
not  see  the  principles  upon  which  the  work  is  founded, 
in  fact  that  he  does  not  believe  there  are  any.  We 
will  quote  :  "  Our  task  would  be  much  easier  if 
there  were  any  one  radical  principle  to  which  his 
several  axioms  could  be  reduced  ; "  further  on  in  the 
same  page  he  begins  to  see  dimly  as  follows  :  "  We 
are  not  sure  that  Mr.  Finney's  doctrines  may  not  be 
traced  to  two  fundamental  principles  ; "  after  writing 
eight  pages,  he  is  "  assured  that  he  has  discovered  the 
two  principles,"  the  key-stones  of  the  arch;  well, 
what  does  he  in  this  case  ?  Does  he  try  to  pull  them 
out,  and  thus  overthrow  the  structure?  No,  he 
stands  laughing  at  it,  and  calls  upon  those  who  think 
as  he  does  to  help  him  laugh  it  down.  The  only  real 
difference  between  them  is  shown  by  Mr.  Finnev,  in 
an  "  Examination  of  the  Review  of  Finney's  Theol- 


CHARLES  G.  FINNEY.  1GI 

ogy,"  published  in  the  Oberlin  Quarterly  for  August, 
1817.  We  quote  briefly  from  the  "  Examination  :  " 
"  Professor  Hodge  asserts  that  '  it  is  no  less  obviously 
true  that  an  inability  which  has  its  origin  in  sin, 
which  consists  in  what  is  sinful,  and  relates  to  moral 
action,  is  perfectly  consistent  with  continued  obliga 
tion  ;'"  "I  deny  that  moral  obligation  extends  to  any 
act  or  state,  either  of  soul  or  body,  that  lies  wholly 
beyond  both  the  direct  and  indirect  control  of  the 
will,  so  that  it  is  naturally  impossible  for  the  agent  to 
be  or  do  it.' "  In  referring  to  Professor  Hodge,  Mr. 
Finney  says  further  :  "  lie  represents  reverence, 
gratitude,  and  devotion  as  higher  forms  ol  virtue  than 
benevolence  ; "  "I  had  shown  that  these  were  attri 
butes  of  benevolence,  but  he  regards  them  manifestly 
as  involuntary  emotions.  Reverence  for  God  for  or 
on  account  of  his  benevolence — gratitude  to  God  for 
his  benevolence — devotion  to  God  for  his  benevo 
lence,  higher  forms  of  virtue  than  the  benevolence 
which  we  adore  !  Amazing!  What  will  the  church 
and  the  world  say,  when  they  are  told  that  at  Prince 
ton  they  hold  such  views  of  the  nature  of  true  religion  ? 
What,  good  will  to  God  and  to  being  in  general,  that 
efficient  principle  that  is  the  foundation  and  source 
of  all  doing  good,  one  of  the  lowest  forms  of  virtue  ! 
Tell  it  not  in  Gath.  *  *  *  If,  as  he  says,  the 
involuntary  states  of  the  intellect  and  the  sensibility 

are  more  virtuous  than  the  benevolence  in  which  I 

11 


162  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

hold  that  all  true  virtue  strictly  consists,  I  am  ut 
terly  mistaken.  And  if,  on  the  other  hand,  supreme, 
disinterested  good  will  to  God  and  man,  including  all 
its  attributes  and  developments,  is  virtue,  and,  strictly 
speaking,  the  whole  of  virtue,  then  this  writer  is 
wholly  in  fault,  and  has  not  the  true  ideal  of  the 
Christian  religion  before  him  when  he  writes."  But 
we  have  not  room  to  trace  the  skirmish  any  further ; 
indeed,  were  it  not  the  only  semblance  of  an  attack 
upon  his  system  from  an  opposing  school,  we  should 
only  have  alluded  to  it.  Before  leaving  this  subject, 
it  will  be  proper  for  us  to  mention  a  paper  written  by 
Dr.  Duffield,  issued  under  the  sanction  of  the  Presby 
tery  of  Detroit,  and  "  approved  by  the  Synod  of 
Michigan ; "  it  is  entitled  "A  Warning  against  Er 
ror,"  but  should  have  been  named  conversely,  an 
"  Error  against  Warning,"  or  a  bundle  of  errors  in 
despite  of  warning.  We  have  read  most  of  it,  and 
after  reading  the  "Reply"  to  it,  which  Mr.  Finney 
published,  we  do  not  think  it  worth  our  while  to 
quote  a  paragraph.  It  is  a  mere  collection  of  pathos, 
grandmotherly  tenderness  of  the  churches,  and  mis 
apprehensions  of  Mr.  Finney's  views,  with  a  few  pi 
ous  ejaculations  of  horror  at  his  awful  impiety.  We 
arc  not  sufficiently  posted  up  in  metaphysics  to  define 
all  the  points  of  difference  between  Professor  Fin 
ney 's  system  and  either  the  Old  or  New  School ;  it 
differs  somewhat  from  both.  In  the  words  of  Pro- 


CIIAKLES  G.  FTNNKY.  163 

fessor  Hodge,  "  Principles  which  have  long  been 
current  in  this  country,  he  has  had  the  strength  of 
intellect  and  will  to  trace  out  to  their  legitimate  con 
clusions,  and  has  thus  shown  the  borderers  that  there 
is  no  neutral  ground."  The  work  is  doubtless  the 
purest,  clearest,  and  at  the  same  time  the  most  pro 
found  metaphysical  disquisition  we  have  ever  seen — 
perhaps  which  has  been  written.  To  quote  a  speci 
men  from  it,  would  be  like  taking  a  stone  out  of  an 
arch  to  exhibit  the  perfection  of  the  structure,  or  like 
cutting  a  piece  from  a  tight  rope  to  show  you  how  it 
looked  when  stretched,  or  like  removing  the  central 
piece  of  a  suspension  bridge  to  exhibit  its  strength  ; 
remove  a  link,  and  the  chain  Mis.  Yet  one  time  or 
other  the  world  will  ask,  "  If  all  this  be  true,  if  Mr. 
Finney's  theological  positions  cannot  be  overthrown, 
why  are  they  not  adopted  by  the  different  schools  of 
the  land  ?  If  men  can  fulfill  the  commands  of  God, 
if  he  in  this  life  expects  them  to  do  what  he  requires, 
if  he  is  a  reasonable  being,  and  only  requires  things 
which  it  is  possible  for  us  to  perform,  why,  O  theolo 
gians,  do  you  not  tell  us  so  ?  If  God  only  expects  us 
to  love  him  with  all  our  powers,  why  do  you  teach 
that  he  requires  in  us  the  perfect  love  of  Adam  be 
fore  the  fall  ?  Is  the  credit  of  this  or  that  particular 
school  of  more  importance  than  the  word  of  God  ? 
Are  the  traditions  of  men  more  binding  than  the 
Divine  commands?  If  the  Infinite  is  a  tyrannical 


164  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

being,  exacting  of  his  creatures  that  which  we  are 
incapable  of  performing,  let  us  know  it  now,  and 
your  further  service  will  be  dispensed  with.  But  if, 
as  some  injudicious  men  strangely  argue,  the  Al 
mighty  Agent  who  holds  our  life  and  destinies  in  his 
hand,  if  he  is  also  a  God  of  justice,  requiring  only 
that  degree  of  service  which  we  are  capable  of  per 
forming,  why  do  you  not  preach  that  plainly,  and 
hold  out  to  us  the  inducements  for  doing  it  ? " 

But  we  have  tarried  too  long  upon  a  subject  upon 
which  we  could  not  have  said  less  without  refusing 

O 

to  speak,  and  we  turn  to  the  narrative  of  his  life. 
About  four  years  since,  Prof.  Finney  went  to  England, 
and  in  spite  of  the  admonitions  and  "  warnings  "  of 
American  conservatives,  was  well  received  by  the 
most  eminent  orthodox  divines  in  the  realm.  We 
copy  an  account  of  his  reception  from  the  letter  of 
an  intelligent  American,  in  the  Puritan  Recorder : 
"  Mr.  Finney's  Lectures  on  Revivals,  which  as  well 
as  one  or  two  other  volumes  of  his  works,  had  been 
published  in  England,  and  even  translated  into 
Welsh,  prepared  the  way  for  his  visit.  When  Dr. 
Campbell  first  invited  him  to  come  up  to  London 
from  some  provincial  town  where  he  was  laboring, 
he  did  it  as  he  does  everything,  with  all  his  heart. 
He  determined  to  have  a  full  and  fair  experiment  of 
the  influence  of  such  labors  on  such  a  population. 
His  plans  were  zealously  seconded  by  the  working 


CUARI.MS  c.  i-i:^\;.v.  1*15 

members  of  the  church,  who  distributed  at  the  com 
mencement  fifty  thousand  copies  of  an  address  invi 
ting  attendance.  These  were  followed  by  thousands 
more  ;  and  huge  placards  were  in  some  instances  car 
ried,  according  to  the  London  fashion,  on  men's  shoul 
ders,  through  the  streets.  The  result  was  a  constant 
and  increasing  attendance  on  the  Sabbath,  and  gen 
erally  six  evenings  in  the  week,  for  about  nine  months, 
ranging  from  one  thousand  to  three  thousand  two 
hundred.  There  was  no  confusion  or  undue  excite 
ment.  At  the  close  of  the  public  evening  services, 
all  who  wished  to  be  more  directly  and  familiarly  ad 
dressed,  were  requested  to  remain  ;  and  the  hundreds 
who  complied  with  this  invitation,  were  still  further 
subdivided  at  a  later  period  in  the  evening,  by  an  in 
vitation  to  inquirers  to  remain.  None  were  received  to 
the  communion  under  four  or  five  months  from  the  time 
of  their  hopeful  conversion.  In  short,  every  precaution 
was  taken  to  prevent  the  evils  which  were  well  un 
derstood  to  have  attended  these  "  special  efforts  "  in 
America ;  and  with  such  a  man  as  Dr.  Campbell  at 
the  helm,  and  in  such  a  community  as  that  which  of 
fered  itself  in  the  busy,  worldly,  wicked  English  me 
tropolis,  there  was  little  danger  of  hurtful  extrav 
agance." 

In  reference  to  Prof.  Finney's  theological  senti 
ments,  this  correspondent  remarks  :  "  Dr.  Campbell's 
treatment  of  Mr.  F.  as,  on  the  whole,  sound  in  doc- 


166  MODERN    AGITATOKS. 

trine,  notwithstanding  many  startling  statements, 
though  disapproved  by  some  of  the  Congregational 
body,  yet  found  an  extensive  concurrence.  And  it 
struck  me  as  not  a  little  remarkable,  that  even  his 
Treatise  on  Theology,  after  a  careful  examination  of 
three  days  by  Mr.  James,  of  Birmingham,  and  Dr. 
Bedford,  of  Worcester,  was  revised  and  edited  by  the 
latter,  and  published  with  Dr.  B.'s  preface  in  an  ele 
gant  form  by  Mr.  Tegg,  the  eminent  London  pub 
lisher.  How  much  the  revision  amounted  to  I  know 
not.  The  American  edition  would  probably  want 
considerable  revision  to  suit  the  taste  of  New  En 
gland  theologians  of  any  school."  We  beg  leave  to 
differ  in  this  last  sentiment  of  the  writer,  for  had 
there  been  any  feature  in  Mr.  Finney's  theology  very 
objectionable  to  New  England  divines,  they  would* 
not  have  invited  him  so  earnestly  to  preach  in  their 
pulpits,  immediately  upon  his  return  to  America. 
The  farewell  exercises  in  London  were  of  a  very  im 
pressive  and  interesting  character.  A  large  tea- 
meeting  was  given,  in  which  flattering  testimonials 
were  presented  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  F.,  and  speeches  were 
made  in  honor  of  their  distinguished  visitor.  Upon 
reaching  New  York,  Mr.  F.  was  urged  to  labor  for  a 
time  in  the  Tabernacle  Church,  of  that  city,  which  he 
did,  and  many  were  converted  and  added  to  the  church. 
The  Independent  says  of  him :  "  The  truths  upon 
which  lie  most  insisted  during  his  continuous  stay  of 


CHAPJLE8  G.  F1XNKY.  1G7 

ten  or  twelve  weeks  in  this  city,  were  the  entire  sin- 
fulness  of  man,  his  guilt  and  condemnation,  his  pinch 
ing  need  of  Christ,  the  glorious  provision  of  grace  in 
the  atonement,  a  free  salvation  by  grace,  and  yet  the 
absolute  sovereignty  of  God  in  the  dispensation  of 
the  Spirit,  whose  aid,  by  his  voluntary  perverseness, 
the  sinner  has  rendered  indispensable  to  his  conver 
sion,  man's  accountability,  and  the  justice  of  God  in 
the  eternal  condemnation  of  the  wicked.  These 
truths  were  often  presented  with  great  force  of  logic 
and  vividness  of  illustration  ;  but  if  we  had  any  crit 
icism  to  offer  upon  Mr.  Finney,  it  would  be,  that  at 
times  he  manifested  a  want  of  earnestness  and  con 
centrated  power — a  consequence  of  the  prolix  dif- 
fuseness  of  extemporaneous  speaking — rather  than  a 
dangerous  excess  of  these  qualities." 

Mr.  Finney  then  went  to  Hartford,  at  the  solicita 
tion  of  Drs.  Hawes,  Bushnell,  and  Mr.  Patton,  and 
lectured  with  success  for  a  number  of  weeks.  He  is 
a  very  earnest  and  energetic  speaker,  rigidly  terse  as 
a  writer,  and  spends  no  time  in  tickling  the  ear  by 
flowery  illustrations  or  splendid  metaphors. 

He  commences  a  discourse  by  digging  down  and 
showing  the  great  principles  which,  like  foundation 
stones,  underlie  the  surface ;  upon  these,  truth  after 
truth  is  piled  like  blocks  of  granite,  which  once  placed 
can  never  be  removed ;  gradually,  but  surely,  rises 
the  superstructure,  and  when  completed,  there  is  not 


163  MODERN    AGITATOES. 

one  piece  too  much,  nor  is  anything  lacking.     The 
argument  completed,  he  proceeds  to  the  application 
of  the  subject  with  a  force  and  scrutiny  which  can 
neither  be  resisted  or  avoided.     The  Divine  Law  ap 
pears  to  the  hearer  like  a  great  and  equitable  rule  of 
action  ;  he  wonders  that  he  never  saw  it  in  that  light 
before ;  he  sees  himself  a  culprit,  feeble  and  insig 
nificant  as  a  worm,  but  magnified  by  his  offense  to  a 
rebel  against  the  Ruler  of  worlds.     There  appears  no 
way  of  escape ;  every  avenue  seems  barred  against 
him  ;  "  which  way  he  flies  is  hell,"  yet  fly  he  must, 
for  behind  him  the  Law,  like  a  flaming  sword,  is  dart 
ing  its  double  edge  of  fire  around  his  soul ;  in  con 
sternation  and   anguish   he  falls  down  exclaiming, 
"  What  shall  I  do?  "  when  a  voice,  still  and  small 
like  a  zephyr,  reaches  him  from  Calvary :    "  Look 
unto  me  and  live."     How  transcendentally  beautiful 
now  appears  the  love  of  God ;  hope  kindles  in  the 
bosom  of  the  offender,  as  he  sees,  behind  the  stern 
glance  of  the  magistrate,  the  yearning  face  of  a  Father ; 
with  a  heart  overflowing  with  gratitude,  the  late  rebel 
embraces  the  atonement  of  Christ,  and  is  at  peace 
with  God.     Something  akin  to  this  class  of  sensa 
tions,  we  have  known  to  be  produced  in  the  minds 
of  three  thousand  at  once,  by  his  vivid  manner  of 
presenting  the  truth  ;  we  could  almost  see  them  sway 
to  and  fro,  as  the  trees  of  a  forest  when  the  wind 
sweeps  over  them  in  power.     We  intended  to  give  a 


CHARLES  G.  FINNEY.  169 

specimen  from  one  of  his  discourses,  but  have  not 
one  convenient  which  does  justice  to  the  man.     In 
deed  it  is  not  by  a  remarkable  concentration  upon  a 
dozen  lines,  that  his  discourses  are  made  so  effective  ; 
it  is  by  the  wonderful  energy  of  thought  and  expres 
sion  of  the  whole.     His  sermons  are  almost  all  ex 
temporaneous,  and  therefore  he  changes  rapidly  from 
one  point  or  thought  to  another,  yet  never  loses  sight 
of  the  main  thread  of  discourse.     Much  of  his  ad 
dress  has  a  personal  manner,  which,  though  perhaps 
more   powerful  when    spoken,  does   not   appear  as 
smoothly  when  written.     He  is  a  remarkable  man, 
and  one  who,  it  would  seem,  would  more  suitably  and 
effectively  labor  as  an  evangelist,  than  as  instructor 
in  a  college.     The  result  of  his  professional  labors  is 
more  felt  at  the  west  than  elsewhere,  because  that  in 
the  condition  of  their  society,  new  measures  or  opin 
ions  are  more  readily  received.     Mr.  Finney  has  been 
twice  married,  and  both  connections  were  happy  in 
their  domestic  results.     From  a  family  of  six  chil 
dren,  two  have  passed  away.     Three  of  those  remain 
ing  are  filling  stations  of  eminence  and  usefulness  at 
the  west,  and  the  youngest  is  at  home.     Mr.  Finney, 
now  sixty-two  years  of  age,  is  President  of  the  Ober- 
lin  College,  Professor  of  Theology  at  the  same  insti 
tution,  and  minister  of  the  Congregational  Church  in 
that  village.     His  church  and  congregation  are  re 
ported  as  the  largest  in  the  United  States. 
H 


JOSHUA  R.  GIDDINGS. 

GIDDINGS  is  one  of  the  "  old  guard "  of  liberty. 
He  is  intimately  connected  with  the  anti-slavery  re 
form  in  America — was  one  of  its  first  and  warmest 
supporters.  He  has  been  so  long  known  as  an  un 
compromising  opponent  of  Negro  slavery  in  the  Uni 
ted  States,  that  he  is  looked  upon  everywhere  as  a 
kind  of  moral  hero,  both  among  his  friends  and  ene 
mies,  for  the  latter  know  full  well,  that  it  requires 
courage  to  support  unwaveringly  an  unpopular  cause. 
Not  for  an  instant  during  the  last  fifteen  years,  has 
Mr.  Giddings  faltered — not  for  a  moment  has  he  har 
bored  a  thought  of  relinquishing  his  opposition  to 
slavery. 

Mr.  Giddings  is  not  a  disciple  of  Lord  Chesterfield  : 
he  knows  not  how  to  bandy  compliments — is  not  a 
fashionable  gentleman,  according  to  the  definition  of 
the  polite  world.  lie  is  not  by  any  means  ungentle- 
manly  or  uncourteous,  but  he  is  plain,  direct,  and  al 
ways  forcible.  His  manner  comports  well  with  his 
appearance.  He  is  of  middle  height,  is  thick-set, 
has  a  corrugated  forehead,  piercing  eyes,  and  a  hearty 
voice.  Sometimes  there  is  a  half-scowl  upon  his  face 


JOSHUA  R.  GIDDINGS.  171 

as  if  he  were  thinking  of  the  many  hard  battles  he 
has   fought   with   the   enemies  of  human  freedom. 
Neither  does  Mr.  Giddings  make  pretensions  to  pro 
found  scholarship.    He  does  not  believe  in  shams,  and 
wishes  to  be  taken  for  what  he  is,  rather  than  for 
•what  he  is  not.     He  was  not  made  in  schools  or  col 
leges,  but  got  his  education  by  the  fireside.      He 
knows,  however,  the  history  of  American  slavery  as 
thoroughly  as  any  man  in  the  country.     He  has  by 
heart  every  feature  of  the  system,  every  movement 
of  its  adherents,  since  the  Union  was  formed.     Stern 
in  his  adherence  to  his  principles,  enduring  as  the 
hardest  granite,  he  is  eminently  fitted  for  his  position. 
In  the  past  years  no  man  could  hold  Mr.  Giddings' 
views  upon  slavery  on  the  floor  of  Congress,  without 
being  made  of  stern  stuff.     No  common  man  could, 
day  after  day,  and  year  after  year,  endure  the  stud 
ied  insults  of  southern  orators  and  blackguards.     Mere 
power  of  rhetoric  could  not  make  front  against  such 
a  mighty  opposing  force.     Nothing  but  iron  integ 
rity  could  do  it.     Mr.  Giddings  has  been  accused  by 
some  of  lacking  geniality,  but  we  think  not  by  those 
who  know  him  well,  and  can  appreciate  the  life  he 
has  led,  and  the  constant  series  of  attacks  which  he 
has  encountered  in  congress  for  the  last  fifteen  years 
or  more.     A  man  cannot  stop  to  measure  his  words 
with  an  enemy  charging  upon  him ;  he  must  fight  as 
best  he  can,  and  how.     Mr.  Giddings   is   simply  a 


172  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

hearty,  solid,  stern  believer  in  human  rights,  and  does 
not  know  how  to  grow  mellow  over  his  grog,  after  the 
genuine  congressional  fashion.  He  is  anti-slavery  at 
all  times — out  of  congress  as  well  as  in  it ;  it  is  his 
"  one  idea,"  to  make  war  upon  the  institution,  and 
for  that  reason  he  is  accused  by  some  of  lacking  ge 
niality.  He  is  a  man  of  warm,  generous  feelings  and 
humor,  but  he  is  distinguished  chiefly  by  his  clear 
common  sense,  and  his  dogged  perseverance.  Once 
right,  all  the  powers  of  hell  cannot  swerve  him  from 
his  path,  and  his  sturdy  intellect  and  philanthropic 
heart,  are  safe  guides  for  him  to  follow.  He  is  no 
orator.  He  does  not  understand  the  power  of  a 
graceful  address,  or  if  he  does,  cannot  speak  grace 
fully.  His  manners  as  an  orator  are  far  from  pleas 
ing,  and  yet  he  usually  commands  the  attention  of 
the  house.  He  lacks  an  easy  flow  of  language  ;  the 
words  sometimes  are  too  rapidly  uttered,  and  again 
too  slowly.  But  there  is  so  much  force,  so  much 
power  in  his  thoughts,  that  he  is  sure  of  being  lis 
tened  to  as  eagerly  as  if  he  were  an  orator. 

Mr.  Giddings  was  born  the  6th  of  October,  1T95, 
at  Athens,  New  York.  His  ancestors  emigrated  from 
England,  in  1650,  to  this  country.  His  great  grand 
father  left  Connecticut,  in  1725,  for  the  state  of  New 
York,  and  in  1806,  his  father  emigrated  to  Ashtabula 
county,  Ohio,  taking  his  son  with  him.  They  have 
remained  there  ever  since.  Young  Giddings  had  not 


JOSHUA  R.  GIDDINGS.  1T'°> 

the  advantage  of  a  collegiate  education,  nor  had  he 
an  academical  education,  for  he  only  attended  school 
in  a  common,  district  school-house.  His  father  had 
been  cheated  out  of  a  grant  of  lands,  and  was  quite 
poor,  and  father  and  son  worked  industriously  upon 
the  farm.  His  father  fought  in  the  battles  of  the 
revolution,  and  his  stories  of  the  stirring  times  of  '76 
made  a  deep  impression  upon  the  mind  of  young 
Giddings — an  impression  which  will  never  be  effaced 
so  long  as  he  lives.  It  was  by  the  humble  fireside 
of  his  father  that  he  learned  to  love  and  respect  hu- 
,man  rights.  He  was  taught  that  human  liberty  is 
worth  dying  for — that  all  men  possess  the  right  to 
own  themselves  and  manage  their  own  affairs.  Rev 
olutionary  blood  runs  in  his  veins,  and  the  tales  of 
the  courage  of  the  old  revolutionary  heroes  in  the 
dark  days  of  the  rebel  colony,  were  calculated  to  fill 
him  witli  a  desire  to  imitate  them  in  their  virtues. 
In  1812  he  took  part  in  the  war  with  Great  Britain, 
and  was  engaged  in  one  or  two  battles  with  the  en 
emy.  Shortly  after  he  returned,  he  was  invited 
to  teach  a  district  school  near  Ashtabula,  and, 
though  feeling  diffident  about  his  qualifications,  he 
accepted  the  invitation,  and  succeeded  admirably. 
He  became  desirous  for  more  knowledge,  for  a  more 
enlightened  intellect,  and  for  a  time  he  put  himself 
under  the  tuition  of  a  neighboring  clergyman.  He 
then  commenced  studying  law,  and  was  admitted  to 


17i  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

the  bar  in  1817.  He  shortly  after  married,  and  set 
tled  down  in  his  profession.  In  1826  he  was  elected 
to  the  legislature  of  Ohio,  and  in  1836  he  was  first 
elected  to  congress,  from  Ashtabula  district,  and 
he  has  been  continued  there  by  his  constituents  ever 
since. 

When  he  entered  congress,  the  nation  was  engaged 
in  prosecuting  the  Florida  war,  the  principal  object 
of  which  was  to  recover  fugitive  slaves.  Seeing  this, 
Mr.  Giddings  at  once  commenced  a  series  of  speeches, 
to  show  the  manner  in  which  the  north  was  dragged 
into  the  support  of  a  system  odious  to  her  alike  by 
nature  and  education.  Two  years  after  he  entered 
congress,  the  infamous  gag-law  was  passed,  whereby 
all  discussion  of  slavery  on  the  floor  of  the  house  was 
prohibited.  Mr.  Giddings,  with  a  few  other  manly 
northern  men  present,  were  determined  to  test  the 
power  of  the  gag,  and,  as  an  experiment,  discussed 
questions  which  indirectly  involved  the  institution 
of  slavery.  The  Florida  war  was  before  the  house, 
and  Mr.  Giddings  led  off  in  an  able  speech  upon  it. 
He  took  the  ground  that  slavery  caused  the  war — • 
that  it  was  a  shameful  and  slave-catching  war:  The 
slave-holding  members  called  him  to  order  for  break 
ing  the  rules  of  the  house,  but  the  speaker  decided 
that  it  was  in  order  to  discuss  the  causes  of  the  war. 
This  decision  paved  the  way  for  the  repeal  of  the 
odious  restriction  upon  the  right  of  speech. 


JOSHTA  K.  GIDDINGS.  1  75 

In  184:1,  the  celebrated  "  Creole"  case  was  before 
the  country.  The  slave  ship  "  Creole,"  from  Rich 
mond,  was,  while  at  sea,  taken  possession  of  by  the 
slaves  on  board,  who  guided  it  to  British  soil,  where, 
by  the  laws  of  Great  Britain,  they  were  free.  Our 
government,  through  the  secretary  of  state,  Daniel 
Webster,  demanded  pay  for  the  slaves.  Mr.  Gid- 
dings  felt  outraged  that  the  general  government 
should  in  so  offensive  a  manner  involve  the  whole 
country  in  a  sectional  institution.  lie  therefore  drew 
up  a  oet  of  resolutions  denying  the  power  of  the  pres 
ident  to  make  such  demands  in  behalf  of  the  people 
of  this  country,  claiming  that  a  majority  of  the  citi 
zens  of  the  Union  did  not  recognize  the  right  of  prop 
erty  in  man.  These  resolutions  were  introduced  into 
congress  by  him.  A  bomb-shell  thrown  among  them 
could  not  have  created  a  greater  excitement  or  con 
fusion.  A  scene  ensued  which  beggars  description. 
The  "  chivalry "  of  the  south  were  ready  to  devour 
him  with  their  poisonous  fangs.  He  was  publicly 
censured  by  congress,  and  he  immediately  resigned 
his  seat  and  went  home.  His  constituents  told  him 
to  return,  and  to  reassert  the  views  embodied  in  his 
resolutions.  They  knew  they  were  correct — that  the 
federal  government  had  no  right  to  take  under  its 
protection  the  institution  of  slavery.  He  went  back 
to  his  seat,  and  courageously  reasserted  his  convic 
tions  upon  the  subject.  The  defenders  of  the  "pecu- 


176  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

liar  institution  "  thought  it  was  not  wise  to  attempt 
to  censure  him  again,  and  now  there  is  scarcely  a 
man  in  the  whole  north  but  will  agree  that  they 
were  not  only  correct,  but  that  it  was  proper  to  pre 
sent  them  to  congress  at  that  time.  On  the  question 
of  the  right  of  petition  Mr.  Giddings  fought  bravely 
and  nobly,  and  lived  to  see  the  right  not  only  asserted 
but  maintained.  Throughout  his  whole  career  he 
has  been  most  bitterly  assailed  by  southern  members. 
We  give  a  specimen  from  his  speech  on  the  annexa 
tion  of  Texas : 

"  Mr.  Payne,  of  Alabama,  interrupting  Mr.  Giddings,  re 
quested  permission  to  propound  a  question. 

"  Mr.  Giddings.  An  hour  is  a  short  time  to  make  a  speech ; 
but,  if  the  gentleman  will  occupy  but  a  moment,  he  may  pro 
pound  his  question. 

"  Mr.  Payne  desired  the  reporters  to  note  what  he  said ; 
and  stated  that  about  two  years  since,  a  man  by  the  name  of 
Torrey,  a  negro-steal er,  brought  a  wagon  and  team  to  this  dis 
trict.  While  stealing  some  negroes  they  were  arrested,  and 
Torrey  made  his  escape.  Subsequently  it  was  said,  that  a 
member  on  this  floor  claimed  the  wagon  and  team  ;  and  he 
now  asked  the  gentleman  from  Ohio  (Mr.  Giddings)  what  in 
terest  he  had  in  the  property  1 

"  Mr.  Giddings.  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  receive  anything  ut 
tered  on  this  floor  as  an  insult.  Indeed,  nothing  coming  frori 
a  certain  quarter  can  insult  me. 

"  Mr.  Payne.     I  call  upon  the  gentleman  from  Ohio  to  an- 


JOSHUA  K.  GIDDLNG8.  177 

swer  my  question  ;  and  if  he  does  not,  a  committee  ought  to 
be  appointed  to  inquire  into  the  fact.  (Cries  of  order,  order.) 

"  Mr.  Giddings.  I  have  witnessed  too  many  of  these  sudden 
outbursts  of  passion  to  be  very  seriously  alarmed  at  them. 

"  Mr.  Payne.  A  man  that  will  deceive  his  own  party,  can 
not  be  ashamed  at  anything.  (Cries  of  order,  order,  all  over 
the  hall.) 

"  Mr.  Giddings.  These  little  innocent  outpourings  of  the 
heart  are  perfectly  harmless  even  from  an  overseer,  when  de 
prived  of  his  whip.  You  may  in  such  case  look  him  in  the 
face  with  safety.  To  you,  Mr.  Chairman,  and  to  the  members 
generally,  whom  I  respect,  I  will  say,  this  is  the  first  intima 
tion  that  I  have  ever  had,  that  any  member  was  suspected  of 
being  connected  with  the  transaction  alluded  to." 

This  is  a  faint  specimen  of  the  thousand  insults 
which  have  been  heaped  upon  Mr.  Giddings  during 
his  congressional  career,  until  at  last  he  has  become 
so  hardened  against  them,  they  excite  little  feeling  in 
him,  and  he  can  laugh  a  blackguard  coolly  in  the 
face. 

One  of  the  most  eloquent  speeches  ever  delivered 
by  Mr.  Giddings  in  congress  was  upon  the  Dayton 
and  Sayers  case.  Some  seventy  or  eighty  slaves  at 
tempted  to  escape  from  the  District  of  Columbia,  in 
the  schooner  Pearl.  The  captain  and  mate  were 
thrown  into  prison.  Mr.  Giddings  visited  them  the 
day  after  their  arrest,  but  his  life  was  threatened  un- 


178  MOIJEKX    AGITATORS. 

less  he  would  leave,  which  he  refused  to  do.     He 
made  the  following  statement  at  the  time  : 

"  I.  Joshua  R.  Giddings,  a  member  of  the  house  of  repre 
sentatives,  state  :  That,  during  the  forenoon  of  yesterday,  I 
visited  the  jail  of  this  district.  I  was  not  acquainted  with  the 
keeper,  and  when  I  arrived  I  announced  to  him  my  name,  and 
that  I  was  a  member  of  this  body.  That  I  further  said  to 
him  that  I  wished  to  see  the  persons  confined  there  on  a  charge 
of  carying  away  slaves  from  this  district.  I  told  him  that  I 
wished  to  say  to  them  that  they  should  have  the  benefit  of 
counsel  and  a  legal  trial,  and  their  rights  should  be  protected, 
and  desired  him  to  be  present.  He  went  with  me  to  the  pas 
sage  that  leads  to  the  cells. 

"  While  conversing  with  these  men  in  the  presence  of  the 
keeper,  a  mob  came  to  the  iron  gate  at  the  head  of  the  stair 
way,  and  demanded  that  I  should  leave  forthwith.  The  keeper 
informed  them  that  he  would  not  open  the  door  until  they  re 
tired.  I  was  further  informed  that  the  mob  had  compelled  the 
guard  at  the  lower  gate  to  deliver  up  the  key  to  them  ;  and  in 
this  way  they  had  opened  that  gate,  and  by  that  means  ob 
tained  access  to  the  passage  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 

"  After  the  mob  had  left  the  stairs  and  entered  the  lower 
passage,  the  keeper,  and  myself,  and  the  Hon.  E.  S.  Hamlin, 
who  had  visited  the  jail  as  attorney  for  the  prisoners  with  me, 
came  down  to  the  lower  gate,  in  front  of  which  the  mob  was 
assembled.  He  opened  the  gate  and  I  walked  out.  This 
morning  I  have  been  informed  by  a  gentleman  who  is  a 
stranger  to  me,  but  who  says  he  was  present,  and  heard  the 
proposition  made  by  individuals,  to  lay  violent  hands  upon  me 


JOSHUA  R.  GIDDINGS.  1  79 

as  I  came  out  of  the  prison,  one  of  whom,  he  informed  me,  was 
a  Mr.  Slatter,  a  slave-dealer  from  Baltimore,  whom  he  states 
to  have  been  active  in  instituting  others  to  acts  of  violence." 

The  affair  created  a  great  deal  of  excitement,  and 
came  up  in  congress.  Certain  slave-holding  mem 
bers,  in  a  state  of  frantic  passion,  went  so  far  as  to 
desire  the  banging  of  Mr.  Giddings  and  bis  friends, 
and  so  expressed  themselves  in  their  speeches.  They 
also  threatened  to  expel  any  members  who  should, 
upon  examination,  be  found  to  have  anything  to  do 
with  inciting  the  slaves  to  escape.  Mr.  Giddings' 
speech  upon  the  subject  was  unusually  eloquent  and 
bold.  We  will  copy  a  few  paragraphs  from  it : 

"  Well,  sir,  what  are  the  facts  at  which  almost  the  whole 
slave-holding  fraternity  of  this  body  has  been  thrown  into  such 
a  ferment  1  Why,  sir,  it  is  said  that  some  seventy -six  men, 
women,  and  children,  living  in  this  district,  possessing  the  same 
natural  right  to  the  enjoyment  of  life  and  liberty  as  gentlemen 
in  this  hall ;  feeling  the  galling  chains  of  slavery  chafing  and 
festering  into  their  flesh ;  themselves  shut  out  from  the  social 
and  intellectual  enjoyments  for  which  they  were  designed  by 
their  Creator ;  bound  down  in  abject  servitude,  surrounded  by 
moral  darkness,  robbed  of  their  labor,  and  shut  out  even  from 
the  hope  of  immortality  under  the  laws  which  we  have  enacted, 
and  which  we  still  refuse  to  modify  or  repeal ;  inspired  with 
an  ardent  desire  to  enjoy  the  rights  with  which  God  has  en 
dowed  our  race,  went  on  board  a  schooner  lying  at  one  of  the 
wharves  of  this  city,  and  set  sail  for  '  a  land  of  liberty.'  When 


180  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

tuey  reached  the  mouth  of  the  river,  adverse  winds  compelled 
them  to  cast  anchor.  Thus  detained,  we  may  imagine  the  anx 
iety  that  must  have  filled  their  minds.  How  that  slave-mother 
pressed  her  tender  babe  more  closely  to  her  breast,  as  she  sent 
up  to  the  God  of  the  oppressed  her  silent  supplication  for  de 
liverance  from  the  men-stealers  who  were  on  their  track ;  for 
those  bloodhounds  in  human  shape  were  in  hot  pursuit,  clothed 
with  the  authority  of  the  laws  enacted  by  congress,  and  now 
kept  in  force  by  this  body,  and  they  seized  upon  those  wretched 
fugitives,  and  brought  them  back  to  this  city,  and  thrust  them 
into  yonder  prison,  erected  by  the  treasure  of  this  nation. 
There  they  remained  until  Friday,  the  21st  instant,  when 
nearly  fifty  of  them,  having  -been  purchased  by  the  infamous 
*  Hope  H.  Slatter,'  who  headed  the  mob  at  the  jail  on  Tues 
day,  were  taken  in  daylight  from  the  prison  to  the  railroad 
depot  and  from  thence  to  Baltimore,  destined  for  sale  in  the 
far  south,  there  to  drag  out  a  miserable  existence  upon  the 
cotton  and  sugar  plantations  of  that  slave-consuming  region. 

"The  scene  at  the  depot  is  represented  as  one  which  would 
have  disgraced  the  city  of  Algiers  or  Tunis.  Wives  bidding 
adieu  to  their  husbands ;  mothers,  in  an  agony  of  despair,  un 
able  to  bid  farewell  to  their  daughters ;  little  boys  and  girls 
weeping  amid  the  general  distress,  scarcely  knowing  the  cause 
of  their  grief.  Sighs,  and  groans,  and  tears,  and  unutterable 
agony  characterized  a  scene  at  which  the  heart  sickens,  and 
from  which  humanity  shrinks  with  horror.  Over  such  a  scene 
that  fiend  in  human  shape,  Slatter,  presided,  assisted  by  some 
three  or  four  associates  in  depravity,  each  armed  with  pistols, 
bowie-knife  and  club.  Yes,  sir,  by  virtue  of  our  laws  he  held 


JOSHUA  R.  GIDDING8.  1  81 

these  mothers  and  children,  their  sisters  and  brothers,  subject 
to  his  power,  and  tore  them  from  all  the  ties  which  bind  man 
kind  to  life,  and  carried  them  south,  and  doomed  them  to  cruel 
and  lingering  deaths. 

"  Sir,  do  you  believe  that  these  members  of  our  body  who- 
stubbornly  refuse  to  repeal  those  laws  are  less  guilty  in  the 
sight  of  a  just  and  holy  God  than  Slatter  himself?  We,  sir, 
enable  him  to  pursue  his  accursed  vocation,  and  can  we  be  in 
nocent  of  those  crimes]  How  long  will  members  of  this 
house  continue  thus  to  outrage  humanity  1  How  long  will 
the  people  themselves  remain  partakers  in  this  enormous  wick 
edness,  by  sending  to  this  hall  men  who  can  here  speak  of 
their  association  with  these  heaven-daring  crimes  in  the  lan 
guage  of  ribald  jesting  ?  If  other  members  sanction  and  ap 
prove  such  torture,  far  more  than  ordinary  murder,  /  will  not. 
It  is  unbecoming  a  Christian  people ;  it  is  unsuited  to  the  age 
in  which  we  live.  Why,  sir,  what  a  spectacle  do  we  present 
to  the  civilized  world  !  Yesterday  we  assembled  with  the  cit 
izens  of  the  district,  in  front  of  this  capitol,  to  rejoice  and  sing 
in  honor  of  the  people  of  France,  many  of  whom  offered  up 
their  lives  to  attain  the  liberty  which  we  ourselves  enjoy. 

"  While  we  were  thus  collected  together,  and  singing  the 
soul-stirring  Marseilles  hymn,  and  shouting  praises  to  our 
brethren,  who,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  have  achieved 
this  freedom,  and  driven  their  monarch  from  his  throne  and 
country,  a  different  scene  was  witnessed  on  the  avenue  before 
us,  where  some  fifty  slaves,  destined  for  the  southern  market, 
were  marched  to  the  railroad  depot.  The  clanking  of  their 
chains,  their  sighs  and  groans,  mingling  with  our  songs  and 
shouts  of  praise  in  favor  of  liberty,  ascended  to  heaven,  and  en 


182  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

tered  the  ear  of  the  God  of  the  oppressed.  Yes,  sir,  while  we 
were  thus  professing  our  admiration  of  freedom,  we  who  now 
sit  in  this  hall,  were  at  that  moment  sustaining  a  slave-market 
in  this  city,  far  more  shocking  to  the  feelings  of  humanity  than 
can  be  found  in  any  other  part  of  the  civilized  world." 

Mr.  Giddings  has  been  always  at  his  post  in  Wash 
ington — has  always  been  faithful  to  his  constituents. 
He  has  at  all  times  been  ready  to  meet  the  south 
upon  any  subject  involving  the  question  of  slavery  ; 
he  has  opposed  all  compromises  with  the  "institu 
tion,"  and  though  hated,  yet  is  respected  by  the  slave- 
holding  members  of  congress. 

The  sternness  which  characterizes  Mr.  Giddings's 
character,  his  persevering  devotion  to  principle,  has, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  made  him  many  enemies, 
north  as  well  as  south.  Politicians  generally  hate 
men  of  principle  ;  political  leaders,  or  at  least  corrupt 
political  leaders,  do  not  like  to  meet  with  men  who 
cannot  be  threatened,  or  bribed,  or  cheated.  Mr. 
Giddings  has  too  much  spirit  to  bear  a  threat,  too 
much  principle  to  entertain  a  bribe,  and  too  much 
common  sense  to  be  led  astray  by  designing  pol 
iticians. 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 

KOT  merely  as  a  poet,  a  politician,  or  an  editor,  is  Mr. 
Bryant  distinguished.  He  is  widely  known  as  a  phi 
lanthropist.  His  sympathies  are  always  with  the  un 
fortunate  ;  and  though  from  his  retiring  disposition 
he  has  had  little  to  do  with  philanthropic  organiza 
tions,  yet  he  deserves  the  esteem  of  all  lovers  of  hu 
manity  for  his  constant,  unwavering  devotion  to  the 
welfare  of  his  race.  Though  editing  a  political  jour 
nal,  he  has  long  advocated  the  cause  of  the  slave  with 
masterly  ability,  and  an  impressive  sincerity.  Long 
ago,  when  the  abolitionists  were  subjected  to  the  outra 
ges  of  mobs,  Mr.  Bryant  came  out  boldly  in  his  journal 
in  condemnation  of  the  mob-spirit,  though  at  that 
time  it  was  popular  to  justify  illegal  attacks  upon  the 
anti-slavery  reformers.  Since  then  he  has  himself  be 
come  nearly  anti-slavery  in  his  feelings  and  princi 
ples,  and  in  his  journal  has  not  hesitated  to  rebuke 
his  party  friends,  though  high  in  office,  for  their  zeal 
in  extending  the  institution  of  slavery. 

Mr.  Bryant  was  born  at  Cummiugton.  Massachu 
setts,  on  the  3d  of  November,  179tt.  His  father  was 
a  physician  of  good  education  and  respectable  talents. 


18-i  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

He  early  saw  in  his  boy  the  germ  of  a  brilliant  ge 
nius,  and  spared  no  pains  in  his  education.  At  a  very 
early  age,  the  boy  wrote  poetry.  When  but  thirteen 
years  old,  he  wrote  two  poems  of  considerable  length, 
which  were  published  in  a  book  form.  In  1810  he 
entered  Williams'  College,  where  he  distinguished 
himself  in  the  languages,  and  in  polite  letters.  He 
remained  there  two  years,  when  desiring  to  leave, 
he  sought  and  obtained  an  honorable  dismissal.  He 
at  once  commenced  the  study  of  the  law,  and  was 
admitted  to  practice  at  the  bar  in  Plymouth,  Mass., 
in  the  year  1815.  He  continued  to  practice  his  pro 
fession  till  1825,  when  he  removed  to  New  York. 
His  famous  poem,  perhaps  his  best,  "  Thanatopsis," 
was  written  in  1821,  or  at  least  published  during  that 
year  in  a  volume  with  others.  He  was  married  in 
1825,  and  one  year  after  he  assumed  the  proprietor 
ship  and  editorship  of  the  New  York  Evening  Post, 
one  of  the  oldest  and  most  influential  democratic  jour 
nals  in  the  country.  He  has  ever  since  been  connec 
ted  with  that  paper,  adding  much  to  its  usefulness  and 
popularity.  Of  Mr  Bryant's  person  and  manners,  we 
can  say  little,  but  will  quote  from  the  "Homes of 
American  Authors"  upon  this  head,  premising  that 
"  lioslyn  "  is  his  country  seat,  a  little  away  from  New 
York: 

"  Mr.  Bryant's  habits  of  life  have  a  smack  of  asceticism,  al 
though  he  is  the  disciple  of  none  of  the  popular  schools  which. 


WILLIAM  CULLEN    BRYANT.  1  ^  "< 

under  various  forms,  claim  to  rule  the  present  world  in  that 
direction.  Milk  is  more  familiar  to  his  lips  than  wine,  yet  he 
does  not  disdain  the  '  cheerful  hour '  over  which  moderation 
presides.  He  eats  sparingly  of  animal  food,  but  he  is  by  no 
means  afraid  to  enjoy  roast  goose  lest  he  should  outrage  the 
manes  of  his  ancestors,  like  some  modern  enthusiasts.  He 
'  hears  no  music,'  if  it  be  fantastical,  yet  his  ear  is  finely  attuned 
to  the  varied  harmonies  of  wood  and  wave.  His  health  is 
delicate,  yet  he  is  almost  never  ill ;  his  life  laborious,  yet  care 
fully  guarded  against  excessive  and  exhausting  fatigue.  He  is 
a  man  of  rule,  but  none  the  less  tolerant  of  want  of  method 
in  others ;  strictly  self-governed,  but  not  prone  to  censure  the 
unwary  or  the  weak-willed.  In  religion  he  is  at  once  catholic 
and  devout,  and  to  moral  excellence  no  soul  bows  lower. 
Placable,  we  can,  perhaps,  hardly  call  him,  for  impressions  on 
his  mind  are  almost  indelible ;  but  it  may  with  the  strictest 
truth  be  said,  that  it  requires  a  great  offense  or  a  great  unwor 
thiness  to  make  an  enemy  of  him,  so  strong  is  his  sense  of  jus 
tice.  Not  amid  the  bustle  and  dust  of  the  political  arena,  cased 
in  armor  offensive  and  defensive,  is  a  champion's  more  intimate 
self  to  be  estimated,  but  in  the  pavilion  or  the  bower,  where, 
in  robes  of  ease,  and  with  all  professional  ferocity  laid  aside, 
we  see  his  natural  form  and  complexion,  and  hear,  in  placid  do 
mestic  tones,  the  voice  so  lately  thundering  above  the  fight. 
So  we  willingly  follow  Mr.  Bryant  to  Roslyn ;  see  him  mu 
sing  on  the  pretty  rural  bridge  that  spans  the  fish-pond  ;  or  ta 
king  the  oar  in  his  daughter's  fairy  boat ;  or  pruning  his  trees ; 
or  talking  over  farming  matters  with  his  neighbors ;  or — to 
return  to  the  spot  whence  we  set  out  some  time  ago — sitting 
calm  and  happy  in  that  pleasant  library,  surrounded  by  the 


186  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

friends  he  loves  to  draw  around  him,  or  listening  to  the  prattle 
of  infant  voices,  quite  as  much  at  home  there  as  under  their 
own  more  especial  roof — his  daughter's — within  the  same 
inclosurc. 

"  In  person,  Mr.  Bryant  is  quite  slender,  symmetrical,  and 
well  poised;  in  carriage,  eminently  firm  and  self-possessed. 
He  is  fond  of  long  rural  walks  and  of  gymnastic  exercises — 
on  all  which  his  health  depends.  Poetical  composition  tries 
him  severely — so  severely,  that  his  efforts  of  that  kind  are  ne 
cessarily  rare.  His  are  no  holiday  verses ;  and  those  who 
urge  his  producing  a  long  poem  are,  perhaps,  proposing  that  he 
should,  in  gratifying  their  admiration,  build  for  himself  a  mon 
ument  in  which  he  would  be  self-enveloped.  Let  us  rather 
content  ourselves  with  asking  '  a  few  more  of  the  same,'  espe 
cially  of  the  later  poems,  in  which,  certainly,  the  poet  trusts  his 
fellows  with  a  nearer  and  more  intimate  view  of  his  inner  and 
peculiar  self,  than  was  his  wont  in  earlier  times.  Let  him  more 
and  more  give  human  voice  to  woods  and  waters  ;  and,  in  act 
ing,  as  the  accepted  interpreter  of  nature,  speak  fearlessly  to 
the  heart  as  well  as  the  eye.  His  countrymen  were  never 
more  disposed  to  hear  him  with  delight ;  for,  since  the  public 
demand  for  his  poems  has  placed  a  copy  in  every  house  in  the 
land,  the  taste  for  them  has  steadily  increased,  and  the  national 
pride  in  the  writer's  genius  become  a  generous  enthusiasm, 
which  is  ready  to  grant  him  an  apotheosis  while  he  Jives." 

We  shall  not  attempt  to  criticise  Mr.  Bryant  as  a 
poet.  An  anonymous  critic  says,  and  justly,  we 
think : 


\VTLLT AM  Cn.LEN  BRYANT.  187 

"  His  versification  is  preeminently  fine.  In  rythmic  mel 
ody  and  cadence,  his  lines  have  few  equals,  and  no  superiors. 
His  diction  is  admirable,  being  pure,  polished,  and  gemmed 
perpetually  with  picturesque  and  felicitously  graphic  epithets. 
In  these  respects  he  need  not  shrink  from  competition  with  the 
highest  on  the  bardic  roll  of  Anglo-Saxondom. 

"  As  hitherto  manifested,  however,  his  poetic  faculty  (as  I 
said  before)  is  neither  very  fruitful,  various,  nor  comprehensive. 
His  forte  would  seem  to  be  a  most  life-like  portraiture  of  nat 
ural  scenery,  wherein  is  developed  with  impressive  exactitude 
the  moral  significance  of  these  works  of  the  Creative  Hand. 

"  Of  his  original  poems,  most  are  of  this  strain.  And  the 
same  meditative  temper,  which  signalizes  this,  his  favorite 
class  of  ^effusions,  follows  him  into  whatever  spheres  else  he 
may  occasionally  enter.  Witness  his  '  Ages,'  a  lengthened  and 
beautiful  resume  of  man's  historic  evolution.  Note  also -his 
'Lines  to  a  Waterfowl/  a  gem  of  rarest  water,  with  a  fully  cor 
responding  setting,  whose  final  stanza  utters  a  moral  alike  tran- 
scendantly  beautiful  and  religiously  sublime." 

A  few  stanzas  from  some  of  liis  finest  poems,  it 
may  not  be  improper  for  us  to  quote — especially  from 
those  which  give  evidence  of  his  warm  sympathy  for 
the  poor  and  down-trodden.  Of  this  latter  class  he 
has  written  many  poems  which  are  calmly,  sadly- 
beautiful. 

One  of  bis  poems  oft  read  and  oft  quoted,  is 
entitled 


188  MODERN    AGITATORS. 


THE  AFRICAN  CHIEF. 

Chained  in  the  market-place  he  stood, 

A  man  of  giant  frame, 
Amid  the  gathering  multitude 

That  shrunk  to  hear  his  name^ 
All  stern  of  look,  and  strong  of  limb, 

His  dark  eye  on  the  ground, 
And  silently  they  gazed  on  him, 

As  on  a  lion  bound. 

Vainly  but  well  that  chief  had  fought, 

He  was  a  captive  now  ; 
Yet  pride,  that  fortune  humbles  not, 

"Was  written  on  his  brow. 
The  scars  his  dark,  broad  bosom  wore, 

Showed  warrior  true  and  brave, 
A  prince  among  his  tribe  before, 

He  could  not  be  a  slave  I 

Then  to  his  conqueror  he  spake : — 

"My  brother  is  a  king  ; 
Undo  this  necklace  from  my  neck, 

And  take  this  bracelet  ring. 
And  send  me  where  my  brother  reigna 

And  I  will  fill  thy  hands 
With  store  of  ivory  from  the  plains, 

And  gold-dust  from  the  sands." 

"  Not  for  thy  ivory  nor  thy  gold 

Will  I  unbind  thy  chain  ; 
That  bloody  hand  shall  never  hold 

The  battle-spear  again. 
A  price  thy  nation  never  gave 

Shall  yet  be  paid  for  thee ; 
For  thou  shalt  be  the  Christian's  slave, 

In  lands  beyond  the  sea." 


WILLIAM  CULLKX  BltYANT.  13'J 

Then  wept  the  warrior  chief,  and  bade 

To  shred  his  locks  away ; 
And,  one  by  one,  each  heavy  braid 

Before  the  victor  lay. 
Thick  were  the  platted  locks,  and  long, 

And  closely  hidden  there 
Shone  many  a  wedge  of  gold  among 

The  dark  and  crisped  hair. 

"  Look,  feast  thy  greedy  eye  with  gold, 

Long  kept  for  sorest  need  ; 
Take  it — thou  askest  sums  untold, 

And  say  that  I  am  freed. 
Take  it— my  wife,  the  long,  long  day 

Weeps  by  the  cocoa  tree,  - 
And  my  young  children  leave  their  play, 

And  ask  in  vain  for  me." 

"  I  take  thy  gold — but  I  have  made 

Thy  fetters  fast  and  strong, 
And  ween  that  by  the  cocoa  shade 

Thy  wife  will  wait  thee  long." 
Strong  was  the  agony  that  shook 

The  captive's  frame  to  hear, 
And  the  proud  meaning  of  his  look 

Was  changed  to  mortal  fear. 

His  heart  was  broken— crazed  his  brain 

At  once  his  eye  grew  wild  ; 
He  struggled  fiercely  with  his  chain, 

Whispered,  and  wept,  and  smiled  ; 
Yet  wore  not  long  those  fatal  bands, 

And  once  at  shut  of  day, 
They  drew  him  forth  upon  the  sands, 

The  foul  hyena's  prey. 


190  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

This  poem  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  pathetic 
ever  written  by  an  American  bard.  Its  simplicity  is 
striking,  yet  it  is  one  of  its  beauties.  The  last  verse 
is  not  often  surpassed — especially  this  line  : 

"  Whispered,  and  wept,  and  smiled." 

In  this  little  poem  the  poet  preaches  a  more  eloquent 
anti-slavery  sermon,  than  was  ever  delivered  from  the 
pulpit — a  more  touching  oration  against  human  chat 
telism,  than  was  ever  pronounced  from  the  platform. 

There  are  so  many  exquisite  passages  in  the  poems 
of  Bryant,  that  in  quoting  them  one  knows  not  when 
or  where  to  stop.  His  great  poems — Thanatopsis, 
The  Prairies,  etc.,  etc.,  are  so  well  known,  that  we 
will  not  extract  from  them  here,  but  will  close  the 
sketch  with  one  of  his  most  finished,  perfect  pieces. 
It  is  well  known,  but  will  bear  reading  again  and 
again. 

TO  A  WATERFOWL. 

Whither  midst  falling  dew, 

While  glow  the  heavens  with  the  last  steps  of  day, 
Far,  through  their  rosy  depths,  dost  thou  pursue 

Thy  solitary  way  ? 

Vainly  the  fowler's  eye 

Might  mark  thy  distant  flight  to  do  thee  wrong 
As,  darkly  painted  on  the  crimson  sky, 

Thy  figure  floats  along. 

Seek'st  thou  the  plashy  brink 
Of  weedy  lake,  or  marge  of  river  wide, 
Or  where  the  rocking  billows  rise  and  sink 

On  the  chafed  ocean  side  ? 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT.  191 

There  is  a  Power  whose  care 
Teaches  thy  way  along  that  pathless  coast, — 
The  desert  and  illimitable  air, — 

Lone  wandering,  but  not  lost 
» 

All  day  thy  wings  have  fanned, 
At  that  far  height,  the  cold,  thin  atmosphere, 
Yet  stoop  not,  weary,  to  the  welcome  land, 

Though  the  dark  night  is  near. 

And  soon  that  toil  shall  end  ; 
Soon  shall  thou  find  a  summer  home,  and  rest, 
And  scream  among  thy  fellows  ;  reeds  shall  bend, 

Soon  o'er  thy  sheltered  nest 

Thou'rt  gone  ;  the  abyss  of  heaven 
Hath  swallowed  up  thy  form ;  yet,  on  my  heart 
Deeply  hath  sunk  the  lesson  thou  hast  given, 

And  shall  not  soon  depart 

He  who,  from  zone  to  zone, 

Guides  through  the  boundless  sky  thy  certain  flight, 
In  the  long  way  that  I  must  tread  alone. 

Will  lead  my  steps  aright 


THEODORE  PARKER. 

A  FEW  miles  out  of  Boston,  just  far  enough,  to  escape 
the  dust  and  confusion  of  the  town,  there  is  a  dwel 
ling  which  would  attract  the  eye  of  a  genuine  lover 
of  nature,  and  natural  beauty.  It  is  not  character 
ized  by  splendor  and  ostentation,  for  no  pompous  cot 
ton  merchant  or  retired  rumseller  occupies  it.  It  is 
plain  and  yet  beautiful,  unpretentious  and  yet  spa 
cious.  It  is  surrounded  by  shrubs,  and  trees,  and 
flowers  of  every  hue,  and  the  most  delightful  fra 
grance  in  the  summer  time.  Should  you  chance 
some  early  May  morning  to  wander  past-  this  pleas 
ant  spot,  very  likely  in  the  garden  you  will  see  a  man 
in  a  plain  smock  frock,  hard  at  work.  He  is  rather 
short  in  stature,  rather  slender  in  frame,  and  if  you 
catch  a  glance  of  his  eye,  you  will  at  once  entertain 
a  serious  doubt  if  the  man  be  by  profession  a  gar 
dener.  Let  him  lift  the  wide  straw  hat  from  his  per 
spiring  brow  to  catch  a  cool  breeze,  and  you  know 
at  once  that  he  is  no  common  cultivator  of  the  soil. 
Theodore  Parker  is  before  you.  The  beautiful  dwel 
ling  is  his,  and  his  own  hands  have  contributed  to 
the  loveliness  which  surrounds  it. 


THEODORE    PARKER.  193 

Theodore  Parker  is  one  of  the  noblest  men  this  age 
can  boast.  No  sham  ever  yet  could  find  a  lodgment 
in  his  brain  or  heart.  He  abhors  the  false,  and  loves 
the  true  and  manly.  Xot  a  particle  of  vulgar  gentil 
ity,  not  a  grain  of  aristocratic  feeling  was  ever  in  him, 
or  ever  can  get  into  him.  He  esteems  a  man  just 
according  to  his  moral  and  intellectual  worth,  for 

O  ' 

what  he  does,  or  aims  to  do.  He  loves  men  because 
they  are  men  ;  not  because  they  are  white,  or  rich, 
or  can  trace  their  genealogy  back  five  hundred  years. 
An  outrage  upon  the  rights  of  a  poor  negro  in  the 
streets  of  Boston,  stirs  the  blood  as  quickly  in  his 
heart,  as  if  it  had  been  committed  upon  the  person 
of  the  governor  of  the  commonwealth.  A  wrong 
perpetrated  upon  a  wretched  drunkard's  wife  or 
child,  awakes  the  thunder  of  his  eloquence,  when,  if 
inflicted  upon  the  strong  or  rich,  he  would  have  kept 
silent.  It  is  this  gigantic  manhood  in  Theodore  Par 
ker  which  forces  us  to  love  and  admire  him.  In 
spite  of  his  infidelity,  which  so  often  startles  and 
shocks  us,  we  sit  down  involuntarily  at  his  feet  to 
listen  to  his  great  words,  his  courageous  utterances 
against  the  most  heartless  and  cruel  oppression. 
We  receive  not  one  word  of  his  infidelity.  To  us, 
Christ  is  not  merely  the  greatest  man  that  ever  lived, 
but  is  vastly  more ;  to  us,  the  bible  is  not  a  book 
crammed  with  errors — the  miracles  exaggerations; 
and  yet,  to  many  of  those  who  would  crucify  Mr. 


194:  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

Parker,  we  indignantly  cry  :  "  It  is  not  for  you  to 
denounce  this  man  ;  you  who  in  your  lives  each  day 
trample  Jesus  Christ  and  the  bible  under  your  feet ; 
you  who  would  refuse  a  cup  of  cold  water  to  your 
<  Lord  and  Master,'  ran  there  in  his  veins  a  drop  of 
African  blood  ! " 

The  manliness  of  Mr.  Parker  is  apparent  in  his 
daily  life.  A  shoemaker  upon  his  bench,  if  heart- 
noble,  is  to  him  richer  than  Abbot  Lawrence,  with 
his  acres  of  cotton-mills;  a  country  farmer,  in  his 
fragrant  clover  fields,  though  of  limited  knowledge, 
if  he  be  possessed  of  a  generous  heart  and  firm  integ 
rity,  is  in  his  eyes  of  greater  worth  than  Daniel 
"Webster,  using  his  great  intellect  to  perpetuate 
oppression. 

No  man  will  deny  that  Mr.  Parker  is  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  men  of  our  time,  and  that  his  influ 
ence  is  exceedingly  powerful. 

He  is  now  between  forty  and  fifty  years  old — we 
have  forgotten  his  exact  age — and  is  probably  enjoy 
ing  the  most  vigorous  part  of  his  existence.  He  was 
born  in  Lexington,  where  the  first  blood  of  the  revo 
lution  was  spilt,  and  it  would  seem  as  if  the  stories 
of  that  heroic  time  must  have  made  a  deep  impres 
sion  upon  liis  mind  and  heart,  for  the  Lexington 
spirit  flashes  from  his  eyes,  and  throbs  in  every  pulse 
of  his  heart.  His  father  was  a  farmer,  and  Theodore 
prepared  himself  for  college  as  best  he  could.  He 


THEODORE    PARKER.  195 

worked  on  the  farm,  taught  school  winters,  but  stud 
ied  incessantly.  One  day  he  swung  the  scythe  from 
sunrise  to  sunset  upon  his  father's  meadow,  and  the 
next  entered  Harvard  College.  While  there,  he  im 
proved  his  opportunities,  made  use  of  every  moment, 
and  graduated  a  finished  scholar.  This  was  not 
enough.  He  could  not  content  himself  with  the 
knowledge  possessed  by  an  ordinary  college  gradu 
ate.  The  literature  of  Europe  and  the  east  was 
locked  away  from  him,  and  so  he  sat  down  and  mas 
tered  the  French  language,  till  it  was  as  familiar  to 
his  tongue  as  "  household  words."  He  then  studied 
German,  and  enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  reading  the  great 
German  authors  and  poets  in  their  own  language. 
The  Italian,  the  Spanish,  the  Persian,  and  indeed  all 
still  more  difficult  languages  were  made  his  own,  un 
til  the  civilized  world,  and  parts  half  civilized,  were 
within  his  reach.  After  due  preparation  Mr.  Parker 
entered  the  ministry,  and  was  settled  as  pastor  over 
a  Unitarian  church  in  West  Roxbury,  Massachusetts. 
He  first  excited  the  suspicions  of  the  religious  world 
by  the  delivery  of  a  sermon  in  South  Boston,  upon 
the  occasion  of  the  ordination  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Shack- 
ford,  in  the  early  part  of  the  year  ISil.  We  will 
make  a  single  quotation  from  this  sermon,  which  will 
indicate  its  character : 

"  It  has  been  assumed  at  the  onset,  it  would  seem,  with  no 
sufficient  reason,  without  the  smallest  pretense  on  its  writer's 
B 


196  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

part,  that  all  of  its  authors  were  infallibly  and  miraculously 
inspired,  so  that  they  could  commit  no  error  of  doctrine  or 
fact.  Men  have  been  bid  to  close  their  eyes  at  the  obvious 
difference  between  Luke  and  John ;  the  serious  disagreement 
between  Paul  and  Peter,  to  believe,  on  the  smallest  evidence, 
accounts  which  shock  the  moral  sense  and  revolt  the  reason, 
and  tend  to  place  Jesus  in  the  same  series  with  Hercules  and 
Apollonius  of  Tyana. 

*  *  *  "  An  idolatrous  regard  for  the  imperfect  scripture 
of  God's  word  is  the  apple  of  Atalanta,  which  defeats  theologians 
running  for  the  hand  of  divine  truth.  But  the  current  notions 
respecting  the  infallible  inspiration  of  the  bible  have  no  foun 
dation  in  the  bible  itself." 

This  sermon  created  a  good  deal  of  excitement 
among  the  Unitarian  body,  especially  the  conserva 
tives.  They  were  not  satisfied  that  a  man  holding 
such  views  should  have  the  reputation  of  being  a 
Unitarian  clergyman  in  good  standing.  At  this  time 
Mr.  Parker  left  the  country  for  Europe,  where  he  re 
mained  for  three  years,  making  the  acquaintance  of 
some  of  its  most  learned  and  philanthropic  men. 
Among  others,  we  may  mention  the  name  of  Thomas 
Carlyle,  who  is  to  this  day  his  warm  friend  and  ad 
mirer.  In  the  autumn  of  ISM  he  returned,  and  ex 
changed  pulpits  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Sargent,  of  Bos 
ton,  a  Unitarian  clergyman.  The  conservative  Uni 
tarians  were  exceedingly  indignant  that  Mr.  Sargent 
should  admit  such  a  heretic  into  his  pulpit,  and  they 


197 

commenced  a  persecution  against  him,  which  obliged 
him  to  resign  his  charge.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Clarke,  an 
other  Boston  clergyman,  soon  after  offered  his  pulpit 
to  Mr.  Parker,  which  resulted  in  great  excitement, 
and  a  loss  of  members  to  the  church.  The  following 
extract  from  a  sermon  preached  by  Mr.  Parker,  about 
this  time,  will  show  the  nature  of  his  heresy : 

"  The  Jehovah  of  the  Old  Testament  was  awful  and  stern — 
a  man  of  war,  hating  the  wicked.  The  sacerdotal  conception 
of  God  at  Rome  and  Athens  was  lower  yet.  No  wonder,  then, 
that  men  soon  learned  to  honor  Jesus  as  a  god,  and  then  as 
God  himself.  Apostolical  and  other  legends  tell  of  his  divine 
birth,  his  wondrous  power  that  healed  the  sick,  palsied,  and 
crippled,  deaf  and  dumb,  and  blind ;  created  bread,  turned 
water  into  wine,  and  bid  obedient  devils  come  and  go — a  power 
that  raised  the  dead.  They  tell  that  nature  felt  with  him,  and 
at  his  death  the  strongly  sympathizing  sun  paused  at  high  noon, 
and  for  three  hours  withheld  the  day ;  that  rocks  were  rent, 
and  opening  graves  gave  up  their  sainted  dead,  who  trod  once 
more  the  streets  of  Zion,  the  first  fruits  of  them  that  slept ; 
they  tell,  too,  how  disappointed  death  gave  back  his  prey,  and, 
spirit-like,  Jesus,  restored  in  flesh  and  shape  the  same,  passed 
through  the  doors  shut  up,  and  in  a  bodily  form  was  taken  up  to 
heaven  before  the  face  of  men !  Believe  men  of  these  things 
as  they  will ;  to  me  they  are  not  truth  and  fact,  but  mythic 
symbols  and  poetry  ;  the  psalm  of  praise  with  which  the  world's 
rude  heart  extols  and  magnifies  its  King.  It  is  for  his  truth 
and  his  life,  his  wisdom,  goodness,  piety,  that  he  is  honored  in 


198  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

my  heart ;  yes,  in  the  world's  heart.  It  is  for  this  that  in  his 
name  churches  are  built,  and  prayers  are  prayed ;  for  this  that 
the  best  things  we  know  we  honor." 

The  result  of  the  utterance  of  such  sentiments  was 
the  excommunication  of  Mr.  Parker  from  the  Unita 
rian  body.  He  had  powerful  friends  everywhere  in 
the  region  of  Boston  ;  he  had  warm  sympathizers  in 
the  Unitarian  church,  but  they  were  not  of  sufficient 
numerical  strength  to  be  of  service.  His  church  in 
West  Roxbury  was  crowded ;  his  Boston  admirers 
came  out  every  Sunday,  in  large  numbers,  to  hear 
him.  At  last  they  were  determined  that  he  should 
be  entirely  independent,  and  therefore  invited  him 
to  preach  to  them  in  the  Melodeon.  He  accepted 
their  invitation,  and  was  settled  as  their  pastor,  in 
the  old  Puritan  fashion.  There  are  no  rites  or  cer 
emonies  connected  with  his  society ;  he  does  not  admin 
ister  baptism  or  communion,  and  there  is  in  fact  no 
church  organization.  About  a  year  since  his  congre 
gation  hired  the  Music  Hall,  the  finest  interior  in 
Boston,  and  now  every  Sunday  an  audience  of  three 
thousand  people,  comprising  many  of  the  most  re 
fined,  intellectual,  and  wealthy  people  in  Boston, 
convene  to  hear  "  the  infidel  preacher."  His  salary, 
we  believe,  is  three  thousand  dollars.  He  lives  a 
few  miles  out  of  town  in  the  summer,  or  has  a  resi 
dence  there,  as  well  as  in  the  city  of  Boston. 


THEODORE    PARKER.  199 

The  personal  appearance  of  Theodore  Parker  is 
not  remarkable,  and  yet  the  observing  man  will  dis 
cover  indications  of  his  wonderful  genius  in  his  face. 
He  is  slightly  under  the  average  height  of  men, 
rather  spare  in  flesh,  has  a  partially  bald  head,  a  fine, 
compact  brow,  and  a  flashing  eye.  His  features  are 
rather  small,  and  his  organization  is  of  the  finest 
mould.  There  is  a  delicacy  in  his  nervous  system, 
which  is  indicated  by  the  fineness  of  his  hair;  just 
that  amount  of  delicacy  which  is  necessary  to  make 
a  nervous  and  intense  writer  and  speaker.  A  man 
with  the  nervous  system  of  a  Tom  Hyer  cannot  be 
come  a  great  orator.  He  cannot  himself  feel  in 
tensely,  cannot  understand  the  subtler  methods  of 
reaching  the  souls  of  men. 

People  who  have  read  the  sermons  of  ITr.  Parker 
are  usually  disappointed  in  hearing  him  preach  or 
lecture.  He  is  not  an  accomplished  orator ;  in  an 
ordinary  discourse  he  is  altogether  too  lifeless,  too 
devoid  of  gesture.  But  he  has  a  voice  of  exceeding 
beauty,  and  he  can,  when  he  chooses,  charm  an  au 
dience  by  his  striking  and  fascinating  gestures  and 
manner.  •  Occasionally  in  his  sermons,  from  the  bold 
and  magnificent,  from  the  intensely  passionate,  he 
suddenly  glides  into  the  calmly  beautiful.  The  con 
trast  at  such  times  is  almost  overpowering,  and.  the 
heart  of  the  listener  is  touched,  as  by  the  voice  of  an 
angel.  The  pictures  of  strange  and  quiet  loveliness, 


200  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

which  nestled  among  the  grand  mountains  of  his  dis 
courses,  are  not  surpassed  in  poetic  beauty  in  the 
writings  of  any  living  clergyman.  The  fact  is,  The 
odore  Parker  is  a  poet.  He  has  the  intense  and  con 
suming  fire  ;  he  has  also  the  gentleness  and  the  love 
of  the  true  poet.  He  is  no  rhymer,  for  the  reformer 
of  these  times  has  not  time  for  measured  sentences, 
when  the  land  is  in  danger  of  ruin. 

A  majority  of  the  sermons  of  Mr.  Parker  contain 
nothing  offensive  to  the  most  devout  Christian.  His 
reputation  is  founded  not  so  much  upon  his  heresies, 
as  upon  his  genius  and  philanthropy.  It  is  the  fact 
that  he  is  a  fearless  and  powerful  defender  of  the 
wronged,  which  gives  him  a  place  in  the  hearts  of 
millions  who  have  no  sympathy  with  his  religious 
views. 

In  classic  eloquence,  in  burning  invective,  in  as 
tonishing  power,  we  know  of  few  men  of  this  or  any 
other  age,  who  equal  Mr.  Parker.  What  can  sur 
pass  in  eloquence  the  following  passage,  which  we 
extract  from  a  sermon  preached  by  him,  just  after 
the  passage  of  the  fugitive  slave  law  : 

"Come  with  me,  my  friends,  a  moment  more,  pass  over  this 
Golgotha  of  human  history,  treading  reverent  as  you  go,  for 
our  feet  are  on  our  mothers'  graves,  and  our  shoes  defile  our 
fathers'  hallowed  bones.  Let  us  not  talk  of  them  ;  go  further 
on,  look  and  pass  by.  Come  with  me  into  the  Inferno  of  the 


J'AUKDK.  201 

nations,  with  such  poor  guidance  as  my  lamp  can  lend.  Let 
us  disquiet  and  bring  up  the  awful  shadows  of  empires  buried 
long  ago,  and  learn  a  lesson  from  the  tomb. 

"Come, old  Assyria,  with  the  Ninevitish  dove  upon  thy  em 
erald  crown !  what  laid  thee  low  1  '  I  fell  by  my  own  injus 
tice.  Thereby  Nineveh  and  Babylon  came  with  me  also  to  the 
ground.' 

"  Oh,  queenly  Persia,  flame  of  the  nations,  wherefore  art 
thou  so  fallen,  who  troddest  the  people  under  thee,  bridgedst 
the  Hellespont  with  ships,  and  pouredst  thy  temple-wasting 
millions  on  the  western  world  ?  '  Because  I  trod  the  people 
under  me,  and  bridged  the  Hellespont  with  ships,  and  poured 
my  temple-wasting  millions  on  the  western  world,  I  fell  by  my 
own  misdeeds!' 

';  Thou  muse-like  Grecian  queen,  fairest  of  all  thy  classic  sis 
terhood  of  states,  enchanting  yet  the  world  with  thy  sweet 
witchery,  speaking  in  art  and  most  seductive  song,  why  liest 
thou  there,  with  beauteous  yet  dishonored  brow,  reposing  on 
thy  broken  harp  ?  '  I  scorned  the  law  of  God  ;  banished  and 
poisoned  wisest,  justest  men  ;  I  loved  the  loveliness  of  flesh, 
embalmed  it  in  the  Parian  stone ;  I  loved  the  loveliness  of 
thought,  and  treasured  that  in  more  than  Parian  speech.  But 
the  beauty  of  justice,  the  loveliness  of  love,  I  trod  them  down 
to  earth !  Lo,  therefore  have  I  become  as  those  barbarian 
states — as  one  of  them  ! ' 

"  Oh,  manly  and  majestic  Rome,  thy  seven-fold  mural  crown 
all  broken  at  thy  feet,  why  art  thou  here  1  It  was  not  injus 
tice  brought  thee  low  ;  for  thy  great  book  of  law  is  prefaced 
svith  these  words — justice  is  the  unchanged,  everlasting  will  to 


202  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

give  each  man  his  right !  '  It  was  not  the  saint's  ideal ;  it  was 
the  hypocrite's  pretense !  I  made  iniquity  my  law.  I  trod 
the  nations  under  me.  Their  wealth  gilded  my  palaces — where 
thou  mayst  see  the  fox  and  hear  the  owl — it  fed  my  courtiers 
and  my  courtesans.  Wicked  men  were  my  cabinet  counselors, 
the  flatterer  breathed  his  poison  in  my  ear.  Millions  of  bond 
men  wet  the  soil  with  tears  and  blood.  Do  you  not  hear  it 
crying  yet  to  God  ?  Lo,  here  have  I  my  recompense,  tor 
mented  with  such  downfall  as  you  see !  Go  back  and  tell 
the  new-born  child  who  sitteth  on  the  Alleghanies,  laying  his 
either  hand  upon  a  tributary  sea,  a  crown  of  thirty  stars  about 
his  youthful  brow — tell  him  that  there  are  rights  which  states 
must  keep,  or  they  shall  suffer  wrongs !  Tell  him  there  is  a 
God  who  keeps  the  black  man  and  the  white,  and  hurls  to  earth 
the  loftiest  realm  that  breaks  his  just,  eternal  law  !  Warn  the 
young  empire,  that  he  come  not  down  dim  and  dishonored  to 
my  shameful  tomb  !  Tell  him  that  justice  is  the  unchanging, 
everlasting  will  to  give  each  man  his  right.  I  knew  it,  broke 
it,  and  am  lost.  Bid  him  know  it,  keep  it,  and  be  safe ! ' ' 

The  reader  well  remembers  the  case  of  the  fugi 
tive  Simms,  who  was  dragged  back  from  the  streets 
of  Boston,  past  old  Faneuil  If  all,  to  hopeless  slavery. 
The  court  house  itself  was  in  chains,  and  the  spirit  of 
Liberty  afraid  to  draw  its  breath.  Theodore  Parker, 
the  infidel,  dared,  from  his  pulpit,  to  rebuke  the  city 
for  its  acquiescence  in  such  a  deed,  and  it  is  a  rebuke 
which  will  live  as  long  as  Boston  does.  The  passage 


TIII-:ODORK    PARKER.  203 

below,  which  we  quote  from  it,  is  one  of  the  most 
intensely  powerful  in  the  English  language  : 

"  Where  shall  I  find  a  parallel  with  men  who  will  do  such  a 
deed — do  it  in  Boston  ?  I  will  open  the  tombs  and  bring  up 
most  hideous  tyrants  from  the  dead.  Come,  brood  of  mon 
sters,  let  me  bring  you  up  from  the  deep  damnation  of  the 
graves  wherein  your  hated  memories  continue  for  all  time  their 
never-ending  rot.  Come,  birds  of  evil  omen  !  come,  ravens, 
vultures,  carrion  crows,  and  see  the  spectacle !  come,  see  the 
meeting  of  congenial  souls  !  I  will  disturb,  disquiet,  and  bring 
up  the  greatest  monsters  of  the  human  race  !  Tremble  not, 
women  ;  tremble  not,  children  ;  tremble  not,  men  !  They  are 
all  dead  !  They  cannot  harm  you  now !  Fear  the  living,  not 
the  dead !  " 

"  Come  hither,  Herod,  the  wicked.     Thou  that  didst  seek 

after  that  young  child's  life,  and  destroyedst  the  innocents ! 

Let  me  look  on  thy  face  !     No,  go  !     Thou  wert  a  heathen  ! 

Go,  lie  with  the  innocents  thou  hast  massacred.     Thou  art  too 

good  for  this  company  ! 

"  Come,  Nero  !  thou  awful  Roman  emperor,  come  up  !  No, 

thou  wast  drunk  with  power !    schooled  in  Roman  depravity. 

Thou  hadst,  besides,  the  example  of  thy  fancied  gods.     Go, 

wait  another  day.     I  will  seek  a  worser  man. 

"  Come  hither,  St.  Dominic !    come,  Torquemada ! — fathers 

of  the  Inquisition !  merciless  monsters,  seek  your  equal  here. 

No  ;  pass  by.     You  are  no  companions  for  such  men  as  these. 

You  were  the  servants  of  atheistic  popes,  of  cruel  kings.     Go 

to,  and  get  you  gone.     Another  time  I  may  have  work  for  you, 
B*  3 


204:  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

— now,  lie  there,  and  persevere  to  rot.  You  are  not  yet  quite 
wicked  and  corrupt  enough  for  this  comparison.  Go,  get  you 
gone,  lest  the  sun  turn  back  at  sight  of  ye  ! 

"  Come  up,  thou  heap  of  wickedness,  George  Jeffries !  thy 
hands  deep  purple  with  the  blood  of  thy  murdered  fellow-men. 
Ah !  I  know  thee,  awful  and  accursed  shade !  Two  hundred 
years  after  thy  death,  men  hate  thee  still,  not  without  cause. 
Look  me  upon  thee !  I  know  thy  history.  Pause  and  be  still 
while  I  tell  it  to  these  men Come,  shade  of  a  ju 
dicial  butcher.  Two  hundred  years,  thy  name  has  been  pillo 
ried  in  face  of  the  world,  and  thy  memory  gibbeted  before 
mankind.  Let  us  see  how  thou  wilt  compare  with  those  who 
kidnap  men  in  Boston.  Go,  seek  companionship  with  them. 
Go,  claim  thy  kindred,  if  such  they  be.  Go,  tell  them  that 
the  memory  of  the  wicked  shall  rot ;  that  there  is  a  God  ;  an 
eternity  ;  ay,  and  a  judgment,  too,  where  the  slave  may  appeal 
against  him  that  made  him  a  slave,  to  Him  that  made  him  a 
man. 

"  What !  Dost  thou  shudder  ?  Thou  turn  back  !  These 
not  thy  kindred !  Why  dost  thou  turn  pale,  as  when  the  crowd 
clutched  at  thy  life  in  London  street  1  It  is  true,  George  Jef 
fries  and  these  arc  not  thy  kin.  Forgive  me  that  I  should  send 
thee,  on  such  an  errand,  or  bid  thee  seek  companionship  with 
such — with  Boston  hunters  of  the  slave!  Thou  wert  not  base 
enough !  It  was  a  great  bribe  that  tempted  thee  !  Again,  I 
say,  pardon  me  for  sending  thee  to  keep  company  with  such 
men  !  Thou  only  struckest  at  men  accused  of  crime ;  not  at 
men  accused  only  of  their  birth !  Thou  wouldst  not  send  a 
man  into  bondage  for  two  pounds !  I  will  not  rank  thee  with 


THEODORE    PAKKEtt.  205 

men,  who,  in  Boston,  for  ten  dollars,  would  enslave  a  negro 
now  !  Rest  still,  Herod !  Be  quiet,  Nero  !  Sleep,  St.  Do- 
minic,  and  sleep,  O  Torquemada,  in  your  fiery  jail !  Sleep, 
Jeffries,  underneath  '  the  altar  of  the  church '  which  seeks,  with 
Christian  charity,  to  hide  your  hated  bones  !  " 

In  one  of  Mr.  Parker's  sermons  on  "  Immortal 
Life,"  occurs  the  following  beautiful  passage : 

"  I  would  not  slight  this  wondrous  world.  I  love  its  day  and 
night.  Its  flowers  and  its  fruits  are  dear  to  me.  I  would  not 
willfully  lose  sight  of  a  departing  cloud.  Every  year  opens  new 
beauty  in  a  star  ;  or  in  a  purple  curtain  fringed  with  loveliness. 
The  laws,  too,  of  matter  seem  more  wonderful  the  more  I  study 
them,  in  the  whirling  eddies  of  the  dust,  in  the  curious  shells 
of  former  life,  buried  by  thousands  in  a  grain  of  chalk,  or  in 
the  shining  diagrams  of  light  above  my  head.  Even  the  ugly 
becomes  beautiful,  when  truly  seen.  I  see  the  jewel  in  the 
bunchy  toad.  The  more  I  live,  the  more  I  love  this  lovely 
world  ;  feel  more  its  Author  in  each  little  thing ;  in  all  that  is 
great.  But  yet,  I  feel  my  immortality  the  more.  In  child 
hood,  the  consciousness  of  immortal  life  buds  forth  feeble, 
though  full  of  promise.  In  the  man,  it  unfolds  its  fragrant 
petals,  his  most  celestial  flower,  to  mature  its  seed  throughout 
eternity.  The  prospect  of  that  everlasting  life,  the  perfect  jus 
tice  yet  to  come,  the  infinite  progress  before  us,  cheer  and  com 
fort  the  heart.  Sad  and  disappointed,  full  of  self-reproach,  we 
shall  not  be  so  forever.  The  light  of  heaven  breaks  upon 
the  night  of  trial,  sorrow,  sin  ;  the  sombre  clouds  which  over- 


206  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

hung  the  east,  grown  purple  now,  tell  us  the  dawn  of  heaven 


The  last  quotation  which  we  will  make,  is  full  of  a 
sad  eloquence.  The  preacher  is  speaking  of  the  he 
roes  of  the  present  day,  those  men  who  have  the 
courage  and  the  principle  to  advocate  unpopular  re 
forms  : 

"  I  know  their  trials,  1  see  their  dangers,  I  appreciate  their 
sufferings,  and  since  the  day  when  the  Man  on  Calvary  bowed 
his  head,  bidding  persecution  farewell  with  his  '  Father,  forgive 
them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do,'  I  find  no  such  saints 
and  heroes  as  live  now !  They  win  hard  fare,  and  hard  toil. 
They  lay  up  shame  and  obloquy.  Theirs  is  the  most  painful 
of  martyrdoms.  Racks  and  fagots  soon  waft  the  soul  to  God, 
stern  messengers  but  swift.  A  boy  could  bear  that  passage, 
the  martyrdom  of  death.  But  the  temptation  of  a  long  life 
of  neglect,  and  scorn,  and  obloquy,  and  shame,  and  want,  and 
desertion  by  false  friends  ;  to  live  blameless,  though  blamed, 
cut  off  from  human  sympathy,  that  is  the  martyrdom  of  to-day. 
I  shed  no  tears  for  such  martyrs.  I  shout  when  I  see  one  ;  I 
take  courage,  and  thank  God  for  the  real  saints,  prophets  and 
heroes  of  to-day.  In  another  age,  men  shall  be  proud  of  these 
puritans  and  pilgrims  of  this  day.  Churches  shall  glory  in 
their  names,  and  celebrate  their  praise  in  sermon  and  in  song." 

One  of  the  greatest  sermons  preached  by  Mr.  Par 
ser — that  upon  the  death  of  Daniel  Webster — is  so 
widely  known  that  we  will  but  mention  it  here  as  one 


THEODORE    PARKER.  207 

of  the  most  brilliant  sermons  ever  delivered  from  the 
American  pulpit.  The  land  was  full  of  adoration  of 
the  dead  statesman,  and  it  required  a  profound  cour 
age  to  face  it  with  the  truth.  The  sermon  met  wjth 
opposition,  in  some  places  bitter  opposition,  but  the 
country  at  large  hailed  it  as  a  great,  searching,  and 
profound  review  of  the  character  of  one  of  the  idols 
of  the  American  people. 

Whatever  charges  may  be  sustained  against  Theo 
dore  Parker,  as  a  theologian,  no  man  will  accuse  him 
of  ever  fawning  before  the  powerful  and  the  despotic — 
no  man  will  accuse  him  of  deserting  the  weak  and 
oppressed.  He  is  faithful  to  his  brother- men — let  him 
at  least  have  all  honor  for  this. 


ICUABOD  CODDING. 

ICHABOD  CODDING  is  well  known  in  the  free  states 
as  one  of  the  earliest,  most  faithful  and  eloquent  ad 
vocates  of  anti-slavery  reform  in  America,  and  he 
deserves  a  place  in  this  series  of  sketches  of  distin 
guished  agitators.  He  gave  himself  up  to  the  cause 
of  freedom  when  he  was  in  his  youth,  and  when,  to 
be  known  as  an  anti-slavery  advocate,  was  to  endure 
obloquy  and  scorn — to  risk  not  only  reputation,  but 
life.  He  is,  according  to  our  thinking,  one  of  the 
most  powerful  advocates  of  reform  in  the  country. 
His  talents  are  varied  ;  he  is  persuasively  eloquent, 
as  an  orator,  b-ut  is  socially  still  more  eloquent.  We 
never  met  a  more  talented  conversationist,  and  his 
power  in  social  circles  is  exceedingly  great.  His 
manners  are  bland  and  winning,  and  yet  he  is  strong 
and  rigid  in  his  positions.  The  reformer  who  is  en 
deavoring  to  impress  society  with  certain  great  truths, 
is  often,  too  often,  harsh  and  repulsive  in  his  manners 
and  conversation.  He  is  like  a  rock  against  which 
the  billows  may  dash  forever  without  making  an  im 
pression — but  he  is  cold  and  bleak.  Mr.  Codding 


ICHABOD   CODDING.  209 

unites  with  firmness  a  great  deal  of  geniality  and  suav 
ity  of  manner.  His  enemies  soon  love  him  when 
they  know  him.  His  conversation  is  fascinating,  yet 
is  utterly  devoid  of  art.  Its  naturalness  is  one  of  its 
most  charming  characteristics.  He  is  intensely  earn 
est,  overflows  with  anecdote  and  humor,  and  seems 
never  to  lack  bright  and  genial  thoughts,  striking  sen 
tences,  and  apropos  anecdotes.  As  an  orator,  he  is 
surpassed  by  few  living  men.  It  is  impossible,  how 
ever,  to  compare  him  with  his  cotemporaries,  for  he 
is  only  like  himself.  His  social  characteristics  follow 
him  to  the  platform.  He  is  at  times  vehement  in  his 
eloquence  there,  but  oftener  calmly  in  earnest — clear, 
frank  and  winning.  One  of  his  best  speeches  is  not 
characterized  by  a  continuous  stream  of  eloquence, 
but  here  and  there  bubbles  up  with  grand,  or  .beau 
tiful  passages,  and  the  whole  speech  has  a  web  of 
logic  stronger  than  steel. 

In  his  personal  appearance,  Mr.  Codding,  at  first 
sight,  appears  to  be  rather  rough — and  it  is  true  that 
he  has  nothing  of  the  fop  in  his  composition.  He  is 
of  medium  height,  has  a  fine,  compact  forehead,  fine, 
dark  hair,  a  large,  homely  mouth,  but  eyes  of  eloquent 
beauty.  He  has  a  rare  voice,. and  reads  finely.  Mr. 
Codding  was  born  in  Bristol,  Ontario  county,  New 
York,  in  the  year  1811.  His  father  died  a  short  time 
previous  to  his  birth,  and  he  came  into  the  world 
fatherless,  and  an  inheritor  of  poverty.  His  mother 
C* 


210  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

was  left  in  moderate  circumstances,  and  all  the  mem 
bers  of  the  family  who  were  old  enough,  were  obliged 
to  work.  Before  he  was  twelve  years  old,  his  educa 
tional  advantages  were  slight.  When  seventeen,  he 
became  deeply  interested  in  the  cause  of  temperance. 
He  had  heard  something  of  certain  movements  in  the 
east,  but  had  neither  seen  pledges,  nor  read  addresses. 
A  little  society  of  thirteeft  members  was  formed  upon 
the  total  abstinence  basis.  It  is  a  little  singular  that 
this  original  teetotal  society  had  not  a  member  who 
was  professedly  a  Christian,  or  who  was  of  age.  Not 
long  after,  however,  the  society  changed  its  constitu 
tion  so  as  to  conform  to  those  of  new  societies  which 
afterward  sprang  up  upon  the  basis  of  the  old  pledge. 
A  few,  however,  would  not  recede,  and  among  these 
was  Codding.  He  delivered  addresses  upon  the  sub 
ject  in  many  places.  Before  he  was  twenty-one  years 
old,  he  had  delivered  over  one  hundred  temperance 
speeches.  lie  also  took  up  the  subject  of  corporeal 
punishment  in  schools,  opposing  the  customary  uae 
of  the  rod,  with  a  good  deal  of  zeal. 

For  three  years,  Codding  was  teacher  in  the  Eng 
lish  department  of  Canandaigua  academy,  at  the  same 
time  pursuing  higher  and  collegiate  studies  himself. 
The  since  well-known  S.  A.  Douglas,  the  little  giant, 
was  studying  at  Canandaigua,  while  he  was  there. 
He  was  then,  as  now,  devoted  to  politics — read  the 
political  newspapers  eagerly  and  carefully,  and  was 


ICIIABOD   CODDING.  211 

much  more  of  a  politician  than  a  scholar.  Before 
leaving  Canandaigna  academy,  Mr.  Codding  was, 
probably,  as  accomplished  a  scholar  as  ordinary  col 
lege  graduates:  he  was  such  in  the  opinion  of  com 
petent  judges. 

When  twenty-three  years  old,  he  entered  Middle- 
bury  College,  in  Vermont.  While  a  freshman,  he  de 
livered  a  temperance  speech  in  the  town,  which  crea 
ted  a  good  deal  of  excitement,  and  he  was  waited 
upon  by  a  committee  who  complained  of  his  speech. 
In  his  junior  year,  needing  money,  and  being  famil 
iar  with  the  studies  of  the  term,  he  got  leave  of  ab 
sence  to  teach,  or  engage  in  a  benevolent  agency. 
He  had  for  some  time  felt  deeply  interested  in  the 
cause  of  the  slave,  and  engaged  himself  for  the  term 
to  the  Vermont  Anti-slavery  Society,  to  lecture.  He 
went  out  into  the  towns,  and  was  met  by  mobs  of 
ruffians,  in  many  Instances,  and  excitement  attended 
his  lectures  everywhere.  The  story  was  widely  cir 
culated  that  he  was  a  member  of  Middlebury  College, 
and  the  faculty,  fearing  that  he  was  adding  to  their 
unpopularity,  got  together,  and  declared  that  he  was 
away  without  liberty,  and  they  therefore  censured 
him.  Of  this  shameful  act  he  was  not  apprised,  and 
knew  nothing  of  it  till  he  returned  to  college.  Upon 
meeting  his  fellow-students,  the  noble  young  advocate 
of  liberty  found  that  he  was  in  disgrace.  He  went 
to  work  in  a  manly  fashion  to  make  potent  the  injus- 


212  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

tice  of  the  faculty.  He  demanded  a  college  meet 
ing — got  his  facts  ready  for  the  press,  and  threatened 
the  officers  with  their  publication  :n  the  public  jour 
nals,  unless  they  would  rescind  their  vote  of  censure. 
They  finally  gave  him  a  letter  of  explanation  in  which 
it  was  fully  admitted  that  he  was  not  away  from  col 
lege  without  leave.  He  was  now  upon  his  former 
standing,  but  their  cruel  conduct  stung  him  to  the 
heart,  and  having  established  his  innocence  of  the 
charges  against  him,  he  left  the  college  forever. 

He  immediately  engaged  himself  as  a  public  lec 
turer  to  the  American  Anti-slavery  Society,  and  spent 
the  winter  in  Vermont.  In  the  spring  he  had  orders 
to  go  to  Massachusetts.  The  very  first  place  he  lec 
tured  in,  he  was  mobbed.  It  was  in  the  town  of 
Brighton,  and  on  the  Sabbath.  It  was  a  beautiful, 
sunny,  summer  afternoon,  and  at  the  hour  of  five,  the 
people  assembled  in  the  church  to  hear  Mr.  Codding 
deliver  his  address  upon  American  slavery.  He  en 
tered  the  house  where  the  stillness  of  a  "New  England 
Sabbath  prevailed.  But  out  of  doors  a  wild  mob  was 
fast  gathering,  and  their  harsh  shouts  contrasted 
strangely  with  the  still  beauty  of  the  Sabbath.  Two 
of  the  boldest  of  the  mob  entered  the  church.  Mr. 
Codding  was  in  the  midst  of  an  opening  prayer, 
when  they  rushed  to  the  pulpit  and  seized  him, 
dragged  him  down  into  the  aisle,  intending  to  pull 
him  out  into  the  street,  and  then  wreak  their  veil- 


ICIIABOD   CODDING.  213 

geance  upon  him.  But  the  audience,  by  this  time, 
were  roused  to  a  state  of  excitement,  and  two  young 
men  who  had  known  Codding  at  college  being  pres 
ent,  seized  upon  the  intruders,  overcame  them,  and 
binding  them  with  handkerchiefs,  forwarded  them 
into  the  front  slip,  and  forced  them  to  hear  one  anti- 
slavery  lecture,  at  least! 

The  next  winter,  Mr.  C.  was  sent  into  Maine,  and 
he  had  the  honor  of  addressing  the  members  of  the 
legislature  for  three  hours  upon  the  Texas  question. 
It  was  one  of  the  greatest  speeches  he  ever  made, 
and  its  effect  was  astonishing.  It  was  afterward  said 
that  it  made  above  forty  members  over  into  aboli 
tionists.  In  Brunswick,  he  was  mobbed.  In  Calais, 
he  commenced  a  course  of  lectures,  but  a  few  law 
yers  got  the  people  together  to  vote  him  out  of  town. 
He  attended  the  meeting,  demanded  the  right  to 
speak  on  the  resolutions  against  him,  which  had  been 
introduced,  and  having  got  the  floor,  used  his  time 
to  good  purpose.  A  set  of  desperadoes  called  "  the 
Indians,"  from  the  fact  that,  dressed  as  Indians,  they 
committed  acts  they  dared  not  commit  in  their  real 
characters,  were  present,  and  by  appealing  to  their 
natural  prejudices  against  lawyers,  Mr.  Codding  ar 
rested  their  attention,  and  got  the  meeting  adjourned 
till  the  next  night,  when  he  met  resolution  after  res 
olution,  defeated  each  one,  triumphed  over  the  law 
yers,  and  delivered  his  course  of  lectures  without 


214:  MODEJRN    AGITATORS. 

disturbance.  While  in  Maine,  Mr.  Codding,  for  a 
time,  edited  an  anti-slavery  journal — the  first  estab 
lished  there.  He  was,  after  leaving  Maine,  with 
Judge  Jay,  mobbed  in  Bedford,  New  York.  After 
being  two  years  in  Maine,  and  laying  the  foundation 
of  the  liberty  party  in  that  state,  he  received  an  in 
vitation  to  visit  Connecticut,  which  he  accepted.  He 
remained  in  Connecticut  three  years,  making  in  all 
parts  of  the  state  the  warmest  friends.  With  S.  M. 
Booth,  he  established  the  Christian  Freeman,  now 
the  Republican.  In  18±2,  he  went  west,  to  Illinois 
and  Wisconsin.  He  delivered  a  great  course  of  lec 
tures  in  Chicago,  and  in  Waukesha,  Wisconsin,  he 
established  the  first  anti-slavery  paper  in  that  state — 
the  journal  now  edited  by  Mr.  Booth,  at  Milwaukee. 
He  also  preached  for  a  time  to  a  Congregational 
church  in  Waukesha,  and  afterwards  to  independent 
congregations  in  Joliet  and  Lockport,  Illinois. 
'  While  once  delivering  a  lecture  in  Southern  Illi 
nois,  Mr.  Codding  was  seized  by  his  neckerchief,  and 
a  pistol  was  presented  at  his  breast  by  an  infuriated 
beast  in  the  shape  of  a  man,  but  the  calm  fearlessness 
ot  Mr.  Codding  overcame  him,  and  at  his  bidding  the 
pistol  dropped  to  the  floor.  He  was  at  one  time  lec 
turing,  when  a  perfect  volley  of  eggs  was  thrown  at 
him,  and  he  drenched  with  them.  One  eye  was  much 
nurt  by  a  missile,  yet  he  preserved  his  humor  through 


ICHABOD    CODDLNG.  215 

this  treatment,  and  with  excellent  good  nature,  he 
said : 

"  Well,  boys,  I  am  fond  of  eggs,  but  I  would  like  to  have 
them  done  up  in  a  little  different  style.  May  be,  in  the  haste 
of  your  generosity,  you  did  not  take  that  into  consideration ! " 

The  "  boys  "  roared  with  laughter  at  his  reply  to 
the  peculiar  arguments. 

The  finest  specimens  of  Mr.  Codding's  oratory  are 
unreported,  and  live  only  in  the  memories  of  those 
who  listened  to  them.  We  will,  however,  make  one 
extract  from  an  address  delivered  by  him  before  a 
mass  convention  in  Illinois,  and  which  was  afterward 
published  in  a  pamphlet  form  : 

" '  Train  up  a  child  in  the  way  he  should  go.'  This  com 
mandment  comes  home  to  the  heart  of  the  slave  father  :  he 
looks  around  upon  the  little  children  that  God  has  given  him  ; 
he  hears  the  voice  of  God,  and  how  it  harmonizes  with  the  re 
sponse  in  his  own  bosom  !  Oh,  how  he  burns  with  internal  fire 
to  educate  their  moral  and  intellectual  nature,  and  fit  them  for 
usefulness  here  and  for  that  state  of  being  that  shall  come  after. 
He  obeys  by  commencing  to  teach  his  child  to  read  ;  the  slave 
holder  comes  in  and  says,  '  Not  a  letter  shall  that  child  learn.' 
The  slave  replies, '  God  commands  me  to  do  it.'  The  slave 
holder  retorts,  '  I  will  show  you  to  whom  that  child  belongs ;  I 
own  it  as  I  own  the  pig  in  the  sty ; '  and  the  master  proves  his 
superior  authority  by  triumphing  over  the  express  command 
of  Jehovah.  What  a  principle  is  here  !  The  chattel  principle 


2  1  6  MOr.EUX    A  GITATOUS. 

spurns  all  those  commandments,  and  absolutely  prevents  their 
fulfillment.  This  is  slaveholding  in  its  essential  characteristics. 
I  beg  this  audience  will  not  understand  me  to  be  speaking  of 
its  abuse.  I  am  talking  of  the  seed  principle — it  is  NOT  its 
abuse.  Itself  is  the  greatest  of  all  abuses;  it  is  the^'aw*  evil, 
and  overshadowing  crime.  The  principle,  then,  is  settled,  that 
chattel  slavery,  absolutely,  so  far  as  the  slave  is  concerned,  does 
overrule  the  direct  command  of  God,  and  asserts  more  than 
God  dare  assert !  If  the  principle  is  settled  that  God  cannot 
rule  over  all,  then  it  is  settled  that  he  cannot  rule  over  any. 
If  I  say,  here  is  a  portion  of  the  human  family  over  which  God 
may  not  reign — it  is  settled  thus  with  regard  to  the  slave,  it  is 
settled  with  regard  to  all  men ;  and  if  God  reigns  over  others, 
ifc  is  by  express  permission  of  the  chattel  principle.  It  must 
be  seen,  then,  that  if  God  has  no  right  to  rule  over  any,  he  is 
no  God :  this  would  be  No-godism-  —ATHEISM  ;  and  whoever 
negatively,  indirectly  or  positively  puts  forth  an  influence  to 
sustain  this  monstrous  system  for  one  moment,  is  so  far  forth 
guilty  of  promoting  downright  atheism.  Startle  not ;  I  have 
no  time  nor  heart  to  say  pretty  things.  Every  man  who  apol 
ogizes  for  slavery  is  warring  against  God's  throne,  and  the  foun 
dation  principles  of  his  church  and  his  ministry. 

"  Before  I  make  the  application  of  this  principle  to  the  pro- 
slavery  ecclesiastics  of  our  time,  suppose  we  take  up,  and  for  a 
moment,  in  the  light  of  this  principle,  look  at  the  atonement. 
Now,  all  Christians  will  acknowledge  that  Jesus  Christ  has  be 
come  the  end  of  the  law  for  righteousness ;  but,  if  God  has 
no  right  to  reign  over  this  universe,  he  has  no  right  to  affix  a 
penalty  to  this  law,  and  therefore  we  need  no  atonement.  You 


ICHABOD    CODDING.  217 

sweep  the  universe  from  his  jurisdiction,  what  need  of  a  gos 
pel  1  The  foundation  rock  is  taken  away,  and  the  gospel  plan 
has  become  as  baseless  as  a  vision. 

"Again :  '  God  commandeth  all  men  now  everywhere  to  re 
pent.'  Suppose  a  minister  should  take  this  for  his  text,  and 
during  the  discourse  should  make  no  allusion  to  the  little  par 
ticle  now,  do  you  not  see  that  the  theme  is  robbed  of  its  point, 
and  shorn  of  its  power?  The  principal,  as  well  as  the  practi 
cal  reason  announces  that  we  should  at  once  repent  of  all  sin, 
and  come  into  immediate  harmony  with  God.  Now  to  seize 
on  one  of  God's  rational  creatures,  by  virtue  of  superior  brute 
force,  and  doom  him  to  a  wretched  life  of  unpaid  toil,  is  the 
crowning  exhibition  of  human  guilt.  MAN,  created  a  little 
lower  than  the  angels — endowed  with  all  the  mysterious,  in 
comprehensible  attributes  of  an  immortal  soul — with  a  mind 
capable  of  grasping  the  infinite  and  the  unknown — with  a  des 
tiny  that  shall  reach  through  the  cycles  of  eternity, — to  go  up 
mid-way  heaven — grapple  with  Deity — seize  such  a  being — 
hurl  him  to  the  dust — herd  him  with  four-footed  beasts  and 
creeping  things,  and  write  upon  his  brow  '  Chattel,  property, 
BEAST  OF  BURDEN  ! '  This  is  the  acme  of  guilt,  standing  unri 
valed  in  its  detestable  preeminence.  If  this  be  not  a  sin,  you 
will  search  the  catalogue  of  crime  in  vain  to  find  one ;  and  if 
any  sin  in  that  catalogue  should  be  repented  of  immediately, 
in  the  name  of  God  and  humanity,  should  not  this  ?  Now, 
says  the  apologist  for  slavery,  '  I  believe  slavery  ought  to  be 
abolished,  but  the  idea  of  immediate  abolition  is  wild  ; '  and 
he  calls  us  Jacobins  !  Now,  I  contend  that  when  you  take  the 
ground  that  this  infamous  system  may  be  continued  for  one 

5 


218  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

moment,  you  array  yourself  against  a  great  and  cardinal  prin 
ciple  of  the  gospel — the  doctrine  of  immediate  repentance. 
But  let  the  principle  once  be  settled  that  we  are  under  no  obli 
gation  to  repent  of  sin  to-day,  there  is  no  proof  that  we  shall 
be  to-morrow,  and  if  not  to-morrow,  then  never.  Hence,  the 
principle  settled  that  we  are  under  no  obligation  to  repent  now, 
the  principle  is  settled  that  there  are  no  moral  obligations  in  the 
universe ;  therefore,  no  authoritative  law — no  God.  Hence,  he 
that  arrays  himself  against  the  gospel,  against  the  divine  law, 
would  blot  out  the  Deity  from  the  universe. 

"  Once  more,  hear  that  anti-abolitionist :  '  You  are  right  in 
principle,  but  it  will  do  no  good  to  urge  it'  What  have  we 
here  !  The  infidel  declaration  that  there  is  nothing  in  truth 
adapted  to  move  mind.  But  the  doctrine  taught  everywhere 
in  the  bible  is,  that '  the  right  with  the  might  shall  be,'  that 
every  honest  blow  struck  in  harmony  with  God  and  his  uni 
verse,  every  breath  of  prayer,  every  voice  of  pleading,  is  an  ac 
cretion  upon  the  heart  of  universal  truth  ;  yes,  and  let  it  cheer 
the  true-hearted  ;  every  nail  driven  into  the  temple  of  truth  is 
FAST,  and  never  to  be  extracted.  This  temple  shall  yet  be 
completed. 

'  There 's  a  good  time  coming,  boys, 

A  good  time  coming  ; 
"We  may  not  live  to  see  the  day, 
But  earth  shall  glisten  in  the  ray, 

Of  the  good  time  coming.' 

Let  it  once  be  said  there  is  no  such  adaptation  in  truth ;  hope 
dies  from  the  world,  and  darkness  that  can  be  felt  settles  down 
upon  the  prospects  of  mankind.  Call  in  your  missionaries ; 


ICHABOD    CODDING.  219 

do\vn  with  your  pulpits  ;  hush  the  thunders  of  the  press  ;  cease 
all  moral  effort,  for  it  is  uttered  from  Heaven,  and  believed 
among  men,  that  there  is  no  adaptation  in  truth  to  accomplish 
the  purposes  of  benevolence ;  let  us  then  go  down  by  the  cold 
streams  of  Babylon,  and  hang  our  harps  upon  the  willows  in 
utter  despair. 

"  But  thanks  be  to  God  !  it  is  not  so ;  let  me  tell  all  that 
hear  me,  there  is  no  real  effort  lost ;  it  is  an  impossibility  ;  it  is 
a  libel  upon  God.  Thus  does  anti-abolition  dethrone  God,  nul 
lify  his  commandments,  abrogate  matrimony,  mock  at  the  atone 
ment,  scout  immediate  repentance,  and  profanely  declare  that 
truth  is  not '  mighty  through  God  to  the  pulling  down  the 
strong-holds  of  sin.' 

"  Now,  all  must  admit  that  whoever  puts  forth  an  influence 
by  his  theories,  his  indifference,  his  apologies  or  open  advocacy, 
to  sustain  slavery,  is  guilty  of  sustaining  as  bare-faced  a  system 
of  infidelity  as  ever  mocked  God.  Do  you  not  see  that  all  anti- 
abolitionists  are  thus  implicated  1  I  am  sorry  to  be  obliged  to 
say  that  the  leading  influences  of  the  church  and  the  ministry 
in  this  country  are  in  this  fearful  position.  For  uttering  such 
sentiments  as  these,  the  cry  has  been  given  abroad  by  some 
ministers,  and  others,  that  I  am  an  infidel  in  my  tendencies. 
Such  a  charge  was  made  against  me  recently  in  the  city  of  Chi 
cago,  by  several  clergyman.  Oh,  I  could  bear  it  all ;  but  when 
I  see  these  great  and  overgrown  ecclesiastical  bodies  standing 
upon  the  prostrate  form  of  crushed  humanity,  and  when  I  see 
great-hearted  men  driven  to  infidelity  by  seeing  these  churches 
and  ministers,  who  profess  to  be  the  pink  of  piety,  plead  for 
this  blighting  curse,  and  strengthen  the  hands  of  the  oppressor, 


220  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

it  is  too  much ;  I  must  speak  out ;  I  must  assign  them  theb 
true  position.  You  say  that  I  am  excited.  I  am.  I  never  can 
discuss  these  great  principles,  involving  all  that  pertains  to  this 
deep,  mysterious  nature  of  ours,  without  becoming  excited ; 
but  God  grant  it  may  not  lead  me  to  take  ground  for  slavery ! 
I  have  endeavored  to  compress  my  remarks  into  as  brief  a  space 
as  possible.  I  leave  it  to  my  audience  to  say  whether  I  have 
maintained  my  proposition.  I  have,  so  to  speak,  merely  en 
deavored  to  throw  out  the  bones  of  the  argument.  I  have  al 
ready  declared  that  the  leading  influences  of  the  church  and 
ministry  in  America  are  in  a  position  to  support  the  system 
of  slavery  as  I  have  described  it.  In  exemplifying  this  position, 
I  may  seem  unnecessarily  severe.  I  have  no  time  to  get  on  a 
Sabbath-day  face  or  adopt  a  holy  tone.  I  know  no  better  way 
than  get  right,  and  speak  right  on  as  I  feel.  I  confess  it  seems 
utterly  impossible  that  any  of  these  religious  bodies  should 
yield  an  influence  to  support  such  a  system.  I  persuade  my 
self  sometimes  in  my  closet  that  it  cannot  be  so ;  but,  alas ! 
the  delusion  soon  gives  place  to  reality.  Talk  not  of  rob 
bery — I  cannot  descend  to  mention  it  in  the  same  connection 
with  slavery.  Common  robbery  merely  takes  the  earned; 
slavery  takes  the  EARNER  ;  common  robbery  takes  only  the 
property  •  slavery  takes  the  PROPRIETOR  ;  common  robbery 
clutches  the  thing ;  slavery  lays  rude  hands  upon  the  MAN. 
Why,  the  slave  cannot  say  my  hands,  my  feet,  my  body — my 
SOUL,  without  using  a  figure  of  speech  !  All  he  has  belongs  to 
another.  Legislators  and  constitution-makers  talk  gravely 
about  the  rights  of  property.  I  pray  you,  sir,  what  is  the 
foundation  right  of  all  property — the  grand,  indestructible 


ICHABOD   CODDING.  221 

Gibraltar  upon  which  all  rights  are  based  ?  My  right  to  my 
self.  That  gone,  you  have  swept  away  all  that  is  great  and 
awful  in  man.  Now,  when  we  lay  at  the  feet  of  the  leading 
ecclesiastics  of  the  age  the  awful  charge  of  conniving  at  this 
atheistical  principle,  and  of  strengthening  the  hands  of  these 
man-hyenas  who  practice  on  it,  we  are  warned  ofT  as  laying 
hands  on  the  sacred  and  the  holy.  I  cannot  help  it.  For 
when  I  discover  the  massive  moral  power  of  these  large  and 
influential  bodies  pressing  with  ponderous  weight  upon  the 
prostrate  forms  and  crushed  hearts  of  my  Father's  children, 
and  hear  their  suppressed  sighs  and  groans,  and  see  them  stri 
ving,  and  struggling,  and  surging  beneath  the  awful  incubus, 
and  all  in  vain,  I  must  and  will  cry  out,  GET  OFF — IN  GOD'S 

NAME,  GET  OFF  ! " 

Certain  enemies  of  Mr.  Codding,  especially  in  the 
west,  have  endeavored  to  injure  his  influence  by  base 
falsehoods  respecting  his  religious  sentiments.  WQ 
cannot  do  better  than  quote  a  few  paragraphs  from  a 
letter  written  by  the  Hon.  Francis  Gillette,  from  the 
west,  and  which  was  published  two  years  since  : 

"  From  Beloit  I  passed  down  into  Northern  Illinois,  to  Lock- 
port,  a  village  situated  on  the  Des  Plaines  river  and  Illinois  ca 
nal,  thirty-five  miles  south  of  Chicago.  In  that  place  and  its 
vicinity  I  spent  several  days  with  Mr.  Codding,  a  gentleman 
whom  very  many  of  the  readers  of  the  'Republican'  remember 
with  a  lively  interest,  as,  for  some  years  a  very  eloquent  and 
effective  advocate  of  reform  in  this  state,  and  those  who  had 


222  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

the  pleasure  of  his  personal  acquaintance,  as  a  truly  fraternal 
and  genial  man.  It  is  now  ten  years  since  Mr.  Codding  went 
from  this  state  to  visit  some  relatives  in  the  vicinity  of  his  pres 
ent  abode,  with  no  thought  but  to  return  arid  resume  his  labors 
here ;  but  he  became  so  much  interested  in  the  great  moral 
harvest-field  of  the  west,  that  he  finally  yielded  to  pressing  so 
licitations,  and  concluded  to  devote  himself  to  that  fresh  and  in 
viting  field  of  labor.  As  a  public  speaker  and  an  itinerating 
lecturer^  no  one  of  his  many  eastern  friends  and  admirers  will 
be  surprised  to  learn  that,  in  Illinois  and  Wisconsin,  through 
which  he  has  often  passed  and  repassed,  on  missions  of  human 
ity  and  mercy,  he  is  spoken  of  and  admired  by  many,  even, 
who  differ  from  him  in  sentiment,  as  the  Whitfield  of  the  west, 
before  whose  truthful  tongue  and  flashing  eye  the  chosen  and 
fitted  champions  of  the  opposition  have  quailed  and  slunk  away 
never  to  encounter  him  again.  In  his  person  and  manners  he 
appears  but  slightly  changed  by  the  last  ten  years,  time  having 
brushed  him  lightly  with  his  hoary  wing.  I  found  this  admira 
ble  man,  who,  could  he  put  his  great  soul  into  his  wallet,  could 
occupy  a  princely  mansion  and  a  most  genteel  city  pulpit  stuffed 
with  the  softest  and  downiest  cotton,  occupying  his  "  own  hired 
house,"  a  very  humble  dwelling,  quite  retired  from  the  village 
of  Lockport,  which,  he  told  m»,  he  had  taken  with  a  view  of 
securing  that  retirement  which  is  so  favorable  to  study,  and  di 
viding  his  ministerial  labors  between  two  societies,  neither  of 
which  is  large — one  in  Lockport,  and  the  other  in  Joliet,  a  vil 
lage  five  miles  south. 

"Though  regularly  ordained  some  years  since,  after  the  strict 
est  modes  of  Congregationalism,  and  cordially  fellowshiped  as 


ICHABOD   CODDING. 

sound  in  the  faith,  I  understand  that  Mr.  Codding  is  now  re 
garded  by  the  vigilant  sentinels  of  sectarian  orthodox,  as  hav 
ing  apostatized  from  the  true  standard,  and  they  have  raised 
against  him  the  cry  of  heretic.  I  was  unable  to  ascertain  the 
exact  points  of  his  heterodoxy,  though,  as  I  was  informed,  it 
was  gravely  alleged,  'as  a  stone  of  stumbling  and  rock  of 
offense,'  to  many,  who  would  not  be  thought  lacking  in  true 
piety,  that  men  and  women  even,  who  had  been  '  stayers  at 
home'  from  public  worship,  and  others,  not  a  few,  who  had 
been  Universalists,  Unitarians,  and  I  know  not  what  other  sus 
picious  ones,  were  seen  to  attend  on  his  ministrations.  Possi 
bly  it  may  be  true  of  Mr.  Codding,  as  of  some  other  persons 
in  this  marvelous  age  of  the  world,  that  his  most  alarming  her 
esy  consists  in  the  rejection  of  that  m0st  unadorable  trinity  of 
slave-mongers,  lower-law  theologians,  and  hunker  demagogues ; 
and  especially  the  denial  of  that  new  article  which  has  recently 
been  adopted  into  their  creed,  viz  :  that  slave-catching  is  both 
a  political  and  saintly  duty,  without  which  there  can  be  no  sal 
vation  to  the  Union.  lie  does  insist  that  a  democracy  which 
crushes  liberty  is  a  despotism,  and  that  a  religion  without  hu 
manity  is  not  Christianity.  He  teaches  that  the  worst  hetero 
doxy  is  that  which  violates  the  divine  law,  in  practice,  and  that 
sect-making  is  not  christianizing  society,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
filling  it  with  discord  and  bigotry,  thus  impeding  the  progress 
of  peace  on  earth  and  good  will  to  men.  In  addition  to  the 
performance  of  his  parochial  labors,  he  occasionally  goes  out  on 
a  lecturing  tour,  his  great  aim  still  being  to  be  diligent  in  his 
Master's  vineyard,  and  devote  all  his  noble  powers  to  the  ele 
vation  and  advancement  of  his  race." 


224  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

It  is  impossible  by  description  or  quotation  to  give 
the  reader  a  just  idea  of  Mr.  Codding  as  a  writer  or 
speaker.  He  must  be  seen  and  heard  to  be  appreci 
ated.  He  is  now  in  the  full  maturity  of  his  powers, 
and  though  he  perhaps  lacks  something  of  the  impet 
uosity  of  his  youth,  he  has  more  of  wisdom  and  char 
ity  for  his  foes.  We  consider  him,  in  many  respects, 
a  model  reformer.  He  scarcely  ever  indulges  in  bit 
ter  denunciations  of  slaveholders  —  scarcely  ever 
makes  enemies,  unless  it  be  among  the  most  de 
praved  class  of  people.  All  over  the  north  there  are 
men  opposed  to  him,  in  his  political,  anti-slavery 
views,  who,  nevertheless,  respect  and  love  him.  Yet 
he  does  not  ever  flinch  a  hair  from  rigid  adherence 
to  principle. 


N.   P.   ROGERS. 

ENGLAND  has  given  birth  to  few  men,  who,  in 
point  of  brilliancy,  genius,  and  genuine  philanthropy, 
are  the  superiors  of  IN".  P.  Rogers.  George  Thomp 
son,  after  a  few  hours  spent  in  conversation  with  him, 
declared  him  to  be  "  the  most  brilliant  man  in  Amer 
ica."  There  was  a  fascination  about  the  man,  a 
charm  in  his  conversation,  in  his  presence,  which 
was  as  superior  to  acquired  politeness  as  nature  is  to 
art.  Few  discovered  from  his  conversation,  that  he 
possessed  great  powers  of  sarcasm  and  indignant  elo 
quence.  For  he  was  one  of  the  gentlest  men  that 
ever  drew  breath.  In  many  things  he  was  like  a 
woman.  His  heart  was  sensitive,  his  fancy  delicate, 
his  love  without  bounds,  and  when  insult  was  aimed 
at  him,  or  when  attempts  were  made  to  wrong  him, 
he  was  silent.  But  when  insult  was  aimed  at  the 
cause  he  loved  so  well,  when  his  brother  was  wronged, 
his  spirit  rose  lion-like,  and  he  could  throw  his  shafts 
of  sarcasm  home  to  the  heart  of  an  adversarv,  or  could 


*226  Moj'KEX    AGITATORS. 


shower  down  upon  his  head  the  terrors  of  a  denunci 
atory  eloquence.  He  was  a  man  overflowing  with 
wit  and  humor.  It  showed  itself  in  his  conversation, 
in  his  speeches,  in  his  writings.  His  bitterest  ene 
mies  could  not  deny  themselves  of  his  brilliant  news 
paper  writings,  and  many  of  their  names  were  upon 
the  subscription  book  of  the  newspaper  of  which  he 
was  the  editor. 

Mr.  Rogers  was  born  in  Plymouth,  New  Hamp 
shire,  June  3d,  1794.  His  father  was  a  physician  of 
fine  abilities,  and  his  mother  was  a  woman  of  more 
than  ordinary  intellect  and  heart.  His  parentage 
was  excellent,  and  as  he  was  a  lineal  descendant  of 
John  Rogers,  the  martyr,  he  had  no  cause  to  be 
ashamed  of  the  blood  which  coursed  through  his 
veins.  In  1811,  he  entered  Dartmouth  College,  but 
through  ill  health  was  obliged  to  leave,  after  remain 
ing  one  year.  He  returned  afterwards,  and  took  his 
degree  in  1816.  He  shortly  afterward  engaged  in 
the  study  of  the  law,  and  practiced  it  in  his  native 
state. 

By  nature  possessed  of  extraordinary  talents,  when 
to  these  was  added  the  discipline  of  a  collegiate 
course,  he  was  fitted  to  adorn  any  station  in  the  coun 
try.  lie  became  thoroughly  acquainted  with  law, 
and  yet  its  practice  was  always  distasteful  to  him. 
He  seldom  appeared  in  the  courts  to  plead,  for  his 
spirit  was  of  too  fine  material  not  to  shrink  from  the 


K.    P.    ROGKKS.  227 

rough  conflicts  of  such  a  life.  He  remained  in  his 
office — it  was  in  his  native  town — and  counseled  his 
clients,  or  prepared  cases  for  the  courts.  His  keen 
intellect  won  for  him  a  fine  reputation,  and  his  ad 
vice  was  sought  in  intricate  cases,  far  and  wide.  For 
many  years,  Mr.  Rogers  continued  in  the  profession 
for  which  he  was  educated,  but  was  never  content 
with  it.  His  love  of  nature  was  fervent,  and  the  po 
etic  instincts  of  his  nature  led  him  to  ahhor  the  dry 
technicalities  of  the  statute  hook.  He  was  born  and 
lived  among  grand  scenery,  and  his  soul  seemed  to 
assimilate  itself  to  the  magnificent  mountains,  among 
the  shadows  of  which  he  so  dearly  loved  to  wander. 
He  gave  up  book-reading  and  read  nature.  The  aw 
ful  peaks  of  the  White  Mountains  were  more  wel 
come  to  him  than  anything  in  Shakspeare  or  Byron, 
and  the  tender  song  of  some  early  spring-bird  more 
sweet  and  beautiful  to  his  ear  than  the  measured  ca 
dences  of  more  modern  poets.  He  had  room  in  his 
heart  for  everything  good  and  gentle,  sublime  or 
beautiful. 

At  last  the  anti-slavery  agitation  arose,  and  being 
a  true  man,  and  in  tune  with  nature,  he  at  once  re 
ceived  into  his  great  heart  God's  truth,  and  became 
an  abolitionist.  He  gave  up  profession,  pecuniary 
independence,  comfort ;  and  heart  and  soul  espoused 
the  cause  of  the  slave.  lie  removed  to  Concord,  and 

became  the  editor  of  the  far-famed  Herald  of  Free, 
A* 


228  MODERN    AGITATOKS. 

dom,  in  which  he  wrote  for  many  years  some  of  the 
most  brilliant  editorials  which  have  ever  emanated 
from  the  newspaper  writers  of  America.  He  adopted 
a  style  well  calculated  to  attract  attention  ;  a  pointed, 
homely,  and,  if  we  may  use  the  term,  a  Yankee  style. 
He  eschewed  the  old  rules,  and  being  sure  of  always 
penning  great  ideas,  cared  little  for  the  manner  in 
which  they  were  clothed.  As  a  matter  of  course,  he 
had  to  meet  the  cry  "you  are  before  the  age  !  "  and 
he  answered  it  as  follows : 

BEFORE  THE  AGE. 

"You  are  too  fast."  Well,  friends,  you  are  too  slow. 
"  You  are  altogether  ahead  of  the  times."  Well,  you  are  alto 
gether  in  the  rear  of  the  times — astern  of  the  times — at  the 
tail  of  the  times,  if  I  must  say  it.  Arid  which  is  the  most  hon 
orable  and  useful  position?  It  is  ahead  of  the  times  to  denounce 
slavery,  and  demand  its  abandonment.  But  that  is  no  reason 
anti-slavery  is  wrong,  or  unreasonable,  or  imprudent,  injudi 
cious,  or  any  of  the  epithets  a  laggard  age  casts  upon  it.  Is 
slave-holding  right  1  Are  the  institutions  that  support  it  right  1 
Are  they  for  the  happiness,  benefit,  improvement,  usefulness, 
innocency  of  the  people1?  These  are  the  questions.  "You 
are  before  the  age!"  Well,  if  I  were  not,  it's  high  time  I 
Tere.  You  ought  to  be  before  the  age.  The  age  is  wrong. 
Whoever  improves  must  go  before.  He  must  quit  the  age, 
wherein  it  is  wrong,  and  the  charge  that  he  is  before  it  is  an 
admission  that  he  is  right.  When  Robert  Fulton  told  them 
steam  was  better  than  wind  on  the  water,  or  than  horse-flesh  on 


N.    P.    ROGKRS.  220 

the  land,  he  was  before  the  age,  though  not  a  great  ways  before. 
He  was  n't  many  years  ahead  of  it.  The  age  is  up  with  him 
now.  They  will  begin  to  build  him  monuments  by  and  by, 
because  he  is  dead  and  it  wont  do  him  any  good.  They  trod 
him  under  foot  when  he  was  alive,  he  was  so  far  "  before  the 
age,"  and  called  him  crazy  !  J/byiomaniac  I  suppose  they 
called  him.  One  poor  man  got  the  notion,  some  ages  ago,  that 
the  sun  did  n't  whirl  round  the  earth,  but  that  it  was  more 
likely  and  reasonable  that  the  appearances  that  looked  as  if  it 
did,  were  brought  about  by  the  earth's  turning  round  on  its 
own  axletree.  They  came  nigh  hanging  or  burning  him  for  it. 
They  let  him  off,  I  believe,  on  the  ground  of  insanity.  They 
made  him  give  it  up,  though,  publicly,  to  save  his  life.  The 
Solemns  got  hold  of  him — the  reverend  divines — God's  spe 
cially  called,  ordained  and  set  apart  ministers — chosen  of  God 
to  guide  the  people  to  heaven.  They  must  know  all  about  the 
sun  and  stars,  and  things  up  the  firmament,  for  they  are  guides 
to  heaven.  They  said  it  was  contrary  to  the  inspired  book  to 
say  the  sun  stood  still  and  the  earth  whirled  round.  It  was 
contrary  to  "Joshua."  So  they  made  the  man  take  it  back. 
They  are  a  knowing  people,  these  divines.  They  are  specially 
gifted  of  God.  They  can't  mistake.  They  were  with  the  age. 
This  crazy  man  was  "  before  the  age,"  now  it  is  admitted  by  the 
very  Solemns  themselves,  that  the  earth  whirls  over  every  twen 
ty-four  hours,  and  the  sun  is  as  still  as  a  mouse.  The  Solemns 
always  admit  things  after  "  the  age"  has  adopted  them.  They 
are  as  careful  about  the  age  as  the  weather-cock  is  about  the 
wind.  They  never  mistake  it.  You  might  as  well  catch  an 
old,  experienced  weather-cock  on  some  ancient  orthodox  steeple, 


230  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

mistaking  the  way  of  the  wind,  standing  all  day  with  his  tail 
east,  in  a  strong  west  wind,  as  the  divines  at  odds  with  "the 
age."  They  can  smell  "the  age."  They  taste  it,  at  any  rate. 

Some  of  Mr.  Rogers'  most  popular  articles  were 
written  for  the  New  York  Tribune,  over  the  signa 
ture  of  "  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain,"  but  they  did 
not,  to  our  thinking,  quite  equal  his  contributions  to 
\i\s.Herald  of  Freedom.  Some  of  these  were  written 
under  circumstances  which  would  have  silenced  the 
tongue  or  pen  of  any  ordinary  man.  He  was  poor 
in  health,  poor,  God  knows,  in  purse,  and  an  increas 
ing  family  was  upon  his  hands.  And  there  were 
troubles  the  world  knows  not  of  with  associates  not 
so  pure,  gentle,  and  truly  noble  as  he.  We  have 
spoken  of  his  indignatory  eloquence,  and  will  quote 
a  few  paragraphs  from  one  of  his  articles  upon  the 
martyr  Torrey.  It  stirs  the  heart,  even  at  this  day, 
like  the  blast  of  a  trumpet : 

TORREY. 

A  New  England  citizen  has  been  imprisoned  and  put  to 
death  without  pretense  of  criminality — for  mistaken  philan 
thropy,  at  worst — for  philanthropy,  undeniably.  But  what 
can  be  done  ?  Nothing,  because  of  the  spell  slavery  has  shed 
over  the  land.  Slavery  may  perpetrate  anything,  and  New 
England  can't  see  it.  It  can  horsewhip  the  old  commonwealth 
of  Massachusetts,  and  spit  in  her  governmental  face,  and  she 
will  not  recognize  it  as  an  offense.  She  sent  her  Hon.  Samuol 


N.    P.    ROGEKS.  231 

Hoar  to  Charleston,  on  a  state  embassy.  Slavery  caugfit  him, 
and  sent  him  most  ignominiously  home.  The  solemn  great 
man  came  back  in  a  hurry.  He  returned  on  a  most  undigni 
fied  trot  He  ran.  He  scampered — the  stately  official.  The 
Old  Bay  State  actually  pulled  foot — cleared — dug,  as  they  say, 
like  any  scamp,  with  a  hue  and  cry  after  him.  Her  grave  old 
senator,  who  no  more  thought  of  ever  having  to  break  his 
stately  walk,  than  he  had  of  being  flogged  at  school  for  stealing 
apples,  came  back  from  Carolina  upon  the  full  run — out  of 
breath,  as  well  as  out  of  dignity.  Well,  what's  the  result? 
Why,  nothing.  They  no  more  think  of  showing  any  resent 
ment  about  it,  than  they  would  if  lightning  had  struck  him. 
He  was  sent  back,  actually,  "  by  the  visitation  of  God."  And 
if  they  had  lynched  him  to  death,  and  stained  the  streets  of 
Charleston  with  his  blood,  a  Boston  jury,  if  they  could  have 
held  inquest  over  him,  would  have  found  that  he  died  by  the 
visitation  of  God.  And  it  would  have  been  "  Crowner's  quest 
law."  Slavery's  "  Crowner's." 

They  have  murdered  Torrey.  But  there  can  be  no  inquisi 
tion.  They  have  brought  his  body  home.  They  "  gave  it  to 
his  friends,"  as  they  would  the  body  of  a  man  hung  on  the  gal 
lows.  They  have  brought  it  to  Boston.  And  they  talk  of 
having  a  public  funeral,  and  an  oration.  They  thought  of  hav 
ing  it  in  Park-street  meeting-house.  They  might  as  well  have 
expected  it,  for  celebrating  the  obsequies  of  Tirrell,  had  he  been 
hanged  for  murder,  as  the  obsequies  of  the  murdered  Torrey. 
"Park-street"  don't  open  to  such  obsequies.  And  such  ob 
sequies  ought  not  to  go  in  there  if  it  did  open.  "  Park-street " 
is  at  the  bottom  of  the  murder.  Boston  is  hand  in  glove  with 


232  MODKRN    AGITATORS. 

it.  The  Bay  State  is.  The  nation  is.  It  is  as  insensible  as  a 
dead  dog  to  the  murder  of  Torrey,  when  it  ought  to  stir  the 
land  like  the  massacre  of  the  5th  of  March,  1770,  when  they 
shot  down  Monk  in  the  streets  of  Boston ;  and  "  Maverick  and 
Gray,  Caldwell,  Attocks,  and  Carr,"  in  the  old  days  of  Han 
cock  and  Warren. 

I  will  make  no  ado  about  it.  It  would  be  like  clamoring  to 
a  burying  yard.  Torrey,  to  be  sure,  is  murdered — but  what 
of  that  ?  Who  cares  ?  He  has  been  killed  by  slavery. 

The  love  of  nature,  which  was  a  striking  character 
istic  of  Mr.  Rogers,  exhibited  itself  constantly  in  his 
writings.  What  can  be  more  beautiful  than  the  fol 
lowing  easy,  careless  paragraph  upon 

THE  RAIN. 

While  I  am  writing,  it  is  raining  most  magnificently  and  glo 
riously,  out  doors.  It  absolutely  roars,  it  comes  down  in  such 
multitude  and  big  drops.  And  how  refreshing!  It  waters 
the  earth.  There  has  been  but  little  rain,  and  our  sandy  region 
has  got  to  looking  dry  and  distressed.  Everything  looks  en 
couraged  now,  as  the  great  strainer,  overhead,  is  letting  down 
the  shower  bath.  The  grass  darkens,  as  it  drinks  it  in,  with  a 
kind  of  delicate  satisfaction.  And  the  trees  stand  and  take  it. 
as  a  cow  does  a  carding.  They  hold  as  still  as  a  mouse,  while 
they  "  abide  its  peltings,"  not  moving  a  twig  or  stirring  a  leaf. 
The  dust  of  the  wide,  naked  street  is  transmuted  into  mud. 
And  the  stages  sound  over  the  road,  as  if  they  rattled  on  na 
ked  pavement.  Puddles  stand  in  all  the  hollows.  You  can 
hardly  see  the  people  for  umbrellas — and  the  clouds  look  as 


N.    P.    ROGERS.  238 

though  they  had  not  done  with  us.  The  prospect  for  the  Can 
terbury  meeting  looks  lowery.  Let  it  ram.  All  for  the  best. 
It  is  extraneous,  but  I  could  hardly  help  noticing  the  great  rain 
and  saying  a  word  about  it.  I  think  the  more  mankind  regard 
these  beautiful  doings  in  nature,  the  more  they  will  regard  each 
other,  and  love  each  other,  and  the  less  inclined  to — enslave 
each  other.  The  readier  abolitionists  they  will  become.  And 
the  better.  The  rain  is  a  great  anti-slavery  discourse.  And  I 
like  to  have  it  pour.  Nor  eloquence  is  richer  to  my  spirit,  or 
music.  That  rush  from  heaven  of  the  big  drops — in  what  mul 
titude  and  succession,  and  how  they  sound  as  they  strike  ! 
How  they  play  on  the  old  home  roof,  and  on  the  thick  tree 
tops!  What  music  to  go  to  sleep  by,  to  a  tired  boy  as  he  lies 
under  the  naked  roof!  And  the  great  low  bass  thunder,  as  it 
rolls  off  over  the  hills,  and  settles  down  behind  them — to  the 
very  center,  and  you  can  feel  the  old  earth  jar  under  your  feet — 
that  is  music,  and  poetry,  and  life.  And  if  the  lightning  strikes 
you — what  of  that !  It  won't  hurt  you.  "  Favored  man," 
truly,  as  Uncle  Pope  says,  "  by  touch  ethereal  slain."  A  light 
touch,  compared  to  disease's,  the  doctor's,  or  poverty's. 

And  here  is  a  scene  among  the  White  Mountains, 
brought  vividly  to  view  by  a  few  touches  of  his 
graphic  pen  : 

THE  NOTCH. 

You  roll  along  a  mile  or  two,  the  road  gently  undulatin^ 
through  the  majestic  woods,  and  fringed  with  bushes  of  delight 
ful  green — when  a  vast  and  overwhelming  opening  breaks  upon 
you,  a  boundless  room  among  the  mountains,  walled  on  the  left 


234:  MODERN    AGITATOKS. 

';y  th-'  £tvat  Elephant  mountain,  the  rock  covered  by  stunted 
evergreens  precipicing  up  two  thousand  feet — the  blue  sky 
itself  scarcely  visible  over  its  eternal  ridge.  Before  you,  at  the 
further  extremity,  opens  the  Notch,  curtained  by  the  sky  of 
Vermont,  which  there  comes  down  upon  it ;  and  on  the  right, 
the  wooded  steep  side  of  Lafayette,  or  Great  Haystack.  No 
thing  can  exceed  the  awful  sublimity  of  the  great  wall  on  the 
left.  The  vast  mountain  side  is  clothed  with  scales  of  rock,  as 
with  a  coat  of  mail,  scarred  here  and  there  with  the  old  ava 
lanches — while,  opposite,  the  forest  side  of  Lafayette  is  striped 
down  with  the  deep  green  of  modern  woods,  which  have  grown 
in  the  paths  of  the  "  slides."  At  the  northern  extremity  of  the 
great  room,  you  come  to  view  "  the  Old  Man  of  the  Moun 
tain."  It  is  on  your  left,  up,  say  fifteen  hundred  feet,  a  perfect 
profile  of  an  aged  man,  jutting  out  boldly  from  the  sheer  pre 
cipice,  with  a  sort  of  turban  on  the  head  and  brow ;  nose,  mouth, 
lip,  chin,  and  fragment  of  neck,  all  perfect  and  to  the  life — and 
with  a  little  fancy,  you  supply  the  cheek  and  ear.  It  looks  off 
south-east.  It  needs  no  imagination  to  complete  it.  It  is  per 
fect  as  if  done  by  art.  But  it  is  up  where  art  never  climbed. 

We  have  given  but  meager  specimens  of  tbe  wri 
tings  of  Mr.  Rogers.  He  needs  to  be  read  carefully, 
article  by  article,  to  enable  the  reader  to  appreciate 
his  genius.  He  made  the  most  trite  subject  rich  and 
beautiful  by  the  magic  of  his  pen.  lie  wrote  with 
strange  facility,  seemed  never  at  a  loss  for  subject,  lan 
guage,  or  ideas.  He  was  always  fresh,  always  at 
tractive,  and  a  vein  of  genial  humor  ran  through  al- 


235 

most  all  his  articles.  If  not  humor,  then  certainly 
biting  sarcasm.  He  could  never  tolerate  "  platitudi 
nous  commonplace."  But  agitation  wore  upon  him — 
or  perhaps  it  would  be  more  correct  to  ascribe  his 
sorrow  to  the  results  of  his  agitating  career.  He  was 
without  a  certain  and  sufficient  support,  and  children 
were  gathered  at  his  feet.  ISTever  was  there  a  more 
loving-hearted  father,  never  a  more  devoted  husband. 
His  heart  was  sorrowful  for  them.  Friends  with 
whom  he  was  associated  in  the  anti-slavery  reform, 
treated  him,  as  he  thought,  with  cruelty,  and  his 
heart  began  to  be  shattered. 

A  look  of  sorrow  was  always  upon  his  face.  He 
was  a  man  of  fine  appearance.  A  large,  noble  brow, 
clear,  intelligent,  beautiful  eyes,  a  profusion  of  dark 
gray  hair,  and  that  sad,  ever  sad,  shadow  over  all, 
were  his  characteristics.  It  was  a  face  which  once 
seen,  lingers  forever  in  the  memory. 

About  this  time,  he  lost  nearly  all  the  little  prop 
erty  which  he  could  call  his  own,  through  the  failure 
of  a  friend  to  wrhom  it  was  entrusted.  An  illness 
fastened  upon  him  which  never  deserted  him  for  a 
day  until  he  died.  For  many  weeks,  however,  he 
continued  to  write  for  his  favorite  journal,  and  these 
contributions  are  among  the  finest  he  ever  wrote. 
His  faith  in  the  ultimate  triumph  of  the  right  did  not 
desert  him  in  the  darkest  hour.  It  was  a  time  when 

church  and  state  seemed  to  be  in  league  against  free- 

2 


236  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

dom.  Mob  law  stalked  unabashed  through  the  land. 
The  friends  of  the  poor,  crushed  slave,  were  few. 
There  were  private  griefs,  too,  in  his  heart.  And  at 
last,  disease  laid  its  disheartening  hand  upon  him. 
But  he  was  calm,  gentle,  and  patient  through  it  all. 
He  declared  to  the  friends  who  gathered  about  his 
couch  that  his  illness  would  terminate  in  death. 
Seeing  one  of  his  family  weep,  he  said  that  he  was 
happy,  and  wished  his  friends  to  be  happy  also.  At 
last,  his  hand,  which  had  been  so  strong  for  the  right, 
grew  too  feeble  to  hold  the  pen,  but  even  after  that 
he  dictated  article  after  article  for  the  press.  He 
possessed,  almost  to  the  day  of  his  death,  a  strong 
desire  to  hear  constantly  of  the  progress  of  the  great 
cause  to  which  lie  had  sacrificed  his  life.  He  asked 
eagerly  for  the  welfare  of  his  old  associates,  who 
were  almost  hopelessly  opposing  themselves  to  the 
war  feeling  which  at  that  time  overspread  the  country. 
His  greatest  comfort  during  his  illnesss  was  music, 
of  which  he  once  said  : 

"  Oh !  this  music  is  one  of  God's  dearest  gifts.  I  do  wish  men 
would  make  more  of  it.  How  humanizing  it  is — and  how 
purifying — elevating  and  ennobling  to  the  spirit !  And  how  it 
has  been  prostituted  and  perverted  !  That  accursed  drum  and 
flfe — how  they  have  maddened  mankind  !  And  the  deep  bass 
boom  of  the  cannon,  chiming  in,  in  the  chorus  of  the  battle — 
that  trumpet,  and  wild,  charging  bugle — how  they  set  the  mili 
tary  devil  into  a  man,  and  make  him  into  a  soldier !  Think 


237 

of  the  human  family,  falling  upon  one  another,  at  the  inspira 
tion  of  music  !  How  must  God  feel  at  it !  To  see  those  harp 
strings  he  meant  should  be  wakened  to  love  bordering  on  di- 
rine  strung  and  swept  to  mortal  hate  and  butchery." 

During  the  few  days  which  preceded  his  death,  Mr. 
nogers  suffered  the  most  excruciating  pains.  "  Oh, 
dear,"  said  he,  "  this  is  the  closing  up  of  my  terrible 
labors  !  "  Terrible,  indeed,  were  they,  for  his  life, 
for  the  past  few  years,  had  been  one  continual  con 
flict  with  the  bigoted,  the  heartless,  and  the  thor 
oughly  depraved.  A  friend  who  leaned  over  the  hot 
brow  of  the  dying  man, whispered  into  his  ear  that  it 
must  be  a  consoling  thought  that  he  had  not  labored 
in  vain.  "  O  yes,"  he  answered,  "  it  sustains  me  un 
speakably — the  reflection  that  I  have  done  right." 
Though  his  agony  was  great,  yet  the  light  of  reason 
did  not  nicker  until  death  led  him  away. 

The  sixteenth  day  of  October,  1846,  was  his  last. 
His  family  friends  were  gathered  around  him,  when 
he  asked  one  of  his  daughters  to  sing  to  him  Lover's 
beautiful  "AngeVs  Whisper"  The  sweet  tones  of  the 
familiar  voice  tilled  the  room,  and  he  seemed  to  be  in 
a  rapture  of  bliss.  "When  the  last  notes  had  died 
away,  some  one  approached  him,  gently,  and  asked 
if  Jesse  Hutchinson,  who  was  in  the  next  room, 
should  come  in.  But  no  answer  came  from  his  dy 
ing  lips.  The  little  band  knew  that  the  dread  hour 


238  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

had  come — no,  not  dread,  but  happy,  happy  hour, 
which  should  conduct  his  weary  heart  to  rest. 

In  a  few  minutes,  the  look  of  sorrow,  which,  for  a 
long  time,  had  dwelt  constantly  upon  his  countenance, 
fled  away,  and  a  beautiful,  seraphic  smile  rested 
calmly  in  its  place.  He  was  dead. 

It  was  Friday  when  he  died,  and  on  the  following 
Sabbath,  a  few  friends  gathered  in  his  dwelling,  for 
ever  bereft  of  his  kindly  presence,  to  consign  his 
mortal  remains  to  the  grave.  The  spot  of  his  burial 
was  just  that  which  he  would  have  chosen — a  quiet 
corner  of  the  village  grave-yard,  beneath  the  branches 
of  a  cluster  of  oaks.  The  snow  fell  drearily  into  his 
open  grave — very  drearily  to  the  bereaved  ones  who 
stood  sobbing  around  it.  But  he  was  wrapt  in  the 
sunshine  of  his  heavenly  Father's  love  ! 

Thus  lived  and  died  a  man  whose  name  will  never 
be  forgotten,  at  least  till  American  slavery  has  passed 
into  oblivion.  He  was  one  of  the  earliest  of  the  anti- 
slavery  agitators  of  this  country,  and  one  of  the  purest. 
But  it  may  be  doubted  if  he  was  fitted  to  be  a  suc 
cessful  agitator  at  the  time  when  he  lived.  He  had 
a  splendid  intellect  and  a  great  heart,  but  the  latter 
was  too  delicately  made  to  enable  him  to  walk  calmly 
on  amid  the  venomous  attacks  of  enemies,  and  the 
not  always  gentle  treatment  of  professed  friends. 
And  yet,  he  agitated  right  well,  and  his  sayings  will 
never  die.  To-day,  they  live  in  the  deeds  of  those 


N.    P.    KOGET7S. 


who,  years  ago,  were  roused  from  inaction  by  them — 
and  to-day  they  are  read  by  those  who  never  read 
them  before,  and  they  will  continue  to  bear  fruit 
until  the  freed  negro — his  brethren  likewise  all  free 
— shall  weep  tears  of  gratitude  over  his  quiet  New 
Hampshire  grave. 


JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER. 

TIIE  poet  Whittier  was  born  in  the  year  1808,  in 
Haverhill,  Massachusetts.  His  home  was  upon  the 
banks  of  the  wild  and  beautiful  Merrirnack  river. 
His  ancestors  for  a  number  of  generations  had  lived 
upon  the  same  spot,  and  it  is  dear  to  him,  not  alone 
for  its  beauty  of  scenery,  or  from  the  fact  that  it  was 
his  birth-place,  but  because  every  nook  and  corner  in 
it,  or  around  it,  is  connected  with  him,  through  his 
ancestors.  They  were  Quakers  of  the  old  George 
Fox  stamp ;  men  of  iron  endurance,  Christian  integ 
rity,  and  sublime  simplicity,  and  consequently  suf 
fered  severely  at  the  hands  of  the  Puritans.  The 
father  of  the  poet  was  a  plain  farmer,  and  Whittier 
either  worked  upon  his  father's  farm,  or  attended  a 
district  school  until  he  was  eighteen  years  old.  He 
then  devoted  a  year  to  study  in  a  Latin  school,  and 
this,  we  believe,  comprises  what  is  popularly  called 
his  education.  He  was  a  home-student,  however, 
and  probably  at  twenty  possessed  a  better  disciplined 
mind  than  one-half  of  the  graduates  of  our  colleges, 
and  his  store  of  valuable  knowledge  was  by  no  means 
small. 


JOHN  G.  WHITHER.  24:1 

In  1828  Mr.  "Whittier  went  to  Boston  to  undertake 
the  editorship  of  " The,  American  Manufacturer"  a 
journal  principally  devoted  to  the  support  of  a  pro 
tective  tariff.  At  this  time,  and  for  some  time  after, 
he  was  an  ardent  admirer  of  Henry  Clay  and  his  po 
litical  views.  Before  assuming  the  editorship  of  the 
"Manufacturer"  he  had  contributed  articles  to  jour 
nals  published  near  his  early  home,  and  had  now  a 
favorable  reputation  as  a  writer,  of  both  prose  and 
poetry,  in  that  vicinity.  He  conducted  the  "Manu 
facturer  "  with  remarkable  ability  for  one  so  young 
and  inexperienced,  but  he  shortly  gave  it  up.  In 
1830  he  went  to  the  city  of  Hartford  to  edit  the 
"New  England  Weekly  Review"  where  he  remained 
for  two  years.  He  exhibited  marked  talents  in  his 
management  of  the  Review.  A  portion  of  the  time 
he  was  warmly  engaged  in  politics,  and  a  part  was 
devoted  to  literature.  About  this  time  he  published 
his  "  Legends  of  New  England,"  and  wrote  a  me 
moir  of  his  friend  Brainard,  the  Connecticut  poet. 
While  he  was  connected  with  the  Review,  he  con 
tributed  to  it  several  poems  of  great  beauty,  which 
attracted  attention  throughout  the  country.  In  1831 
lie  left  the  Review.  His  nature  was  too  gentle,  too 
refined  and  sensitive  for  the  heartless  strife  of  jour 
nalism.  He  could  not  feel  at  ease  tied  to  an  editor's 
chair,  compelled  to  write  a  great  deal  which  was 
distasteful  to  him,  and  to  read  everything  whether 
K  "l6 


242  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

good  or  bad,  issuing  from  the  whole  press  of  the 
country.  Besides,  his  true,  poet's  heart  sighed  for  the 
still  and  beautiful  country.  And  so  he  went  back 
to  the  banks  of  the  Merrimack,  and  rested  beneath 
the  same  trees  which  spread  over  him  their  cool 
shade  when  he  was  a  boy.  For  five  or  six  years  he 
engaged  in  agricultural  pursuits  in  Haverhill.  In 
1835,  he  was  elected  to  the  state  legislature  ;  in  1836, 
ditto,  and  in  1837,  he  declined  a  reelection. 

At  an  early  period  Mr.  "Whittier  consecrated  him 
self  to  the  cause  of  freedom,  and  through  the  dark 
years  of  the  anti-slavery  agitation,  when  mob-law 
was  triumphant  even  in  New  England,  he  sustained 
the  courage  of  the  "  despised  few,"  by  his  passionate 
songs  of  liberty.  The  fiery  eloquence  of  his  numbers 
roused  their  spirits  to  a  degree  of  fearlessness  which 
overlooked  all  personal  dangers,  transformed  them 
into  men  willing,  if  it  were  necessary,  to  wear  the 
crown  of  martyrdom.  In  1S3G  he  published  his  cele 
brated  poem  "  Mogg  Megone,"  and  the  same  year  he 
was  elected  one  of  the  secretaries  of  the  American 
Anti  slavery  Society.  Still  later  he  separated  from 
the  Garrison  party,  and  became  an  active  member 
of  the  political  anti-slavery  organization  known  as 
the  Liberty  party.  lie  at  present  acts  with  the  free 
democratic  party.  It  is  unnecessary  for  us  to  record 
his  literary  or  political  history  for  the  last  few  years, 
for  it  is  well  known  to  all  intelligent  persons.  As 


JOHN  G.  WHITTIER.  243 

coi responding  editor  of  the  National  Era,  he  has 
written  some  of  the  best  of  his  prose  and  poetic  arti 
cles.  He  resides  with  his  sister — a  lady  of  uncom 
mon  talents — and  mother  in  Amesbury,  Massachu 
setts,  upon  a  small  farm,  to  which,  we  believe,  he 
devotes  a  portion  of  his  time,  the  rest  being  occupied 
with  literary  and  plilanthropical  pursuits.  The  per 
sonal  appearance  of  Mr.  Whittier  is  striking.  He  is 
tall  and  slender,  with  a  classical  head,  delicate  fea 
tures,  eyes  of  fiery  black,  and  a  quick,  nervous  man 
ner.  A  smile  generally  rests  upon  his  countenance, 
though  his  nervous  organization  is  so  exquisitely  sen 
sitive  that  he  is  often  startled  from  his  equilibrium 
in  his  contact  with  the  world.  He  is  exceedingly 
bashful  in  general  society,  and  is  not  fond  of  it, 
though  he  is  ardently  attached  to  the  "select  few," 
who  form  his  favorite  circle  of  friends. 

In  our  opinion,  Mr.  Whittier  is  surpassed  in  poeti 
cal  genius  by  no  living  American.  It  is  almost  im 
possible,  however,  to  compare  him  with  many  of  our 
poets.  He  occupies  a  distinct  position  as  a  poet. 
He  is  the  poet  of  freedom,  and  as  such  will  go  down 
to  future  generations  gloriously.  The  free  American 
of  the  future  can  never  forget  the  poet  who  consecra 
ted  his  lyre  to  the  panting,  discouraged  friends  of 
human  liberty,  when  their  cause  was  at  its  low 
est  ebb. 

In  Whittier,  it  seems  as  if  we  revived  the  old  race 


244  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

of  poets,  who  sang  their  spirited  songs  in  defense  of 
their  country's  rights,  and  who  were  ready  to  use 
harp  or  sword,  as  the  occasion  demanded.  We  know 
that  his  lightning-tongued  stanzas  are  familiar  to  all, 
but  in  this  sketch  we  must  repeat  two  or  three  as 
specimens  of  his  style,  or,  in  truth,  his  different  styles. 
To  us,  one  of  his  loftiest,  grandest  poems  is,  that  writ- 

'•^^•\A  ^* 

ten  on  the  adoption  of  Finckney's  resolutions  in  the 
house  of  representatives,  and  the  passage  of  Calhoun's 
"  bill  of  abominations,"  in  the  senate.  Some  of  the 
stanzas  for  strength  and  impassioned  beauty  are  un 
surpassed.  They  stir  a  man's  blood  like  a  trumpet- 
call  to  battle.  We  quote  the  poem  entire : 

"Now,  by  our  fathers'  ashes!  where's  the  spirit 
Of  the  true  hearted  and  the  unshackled  gone? 
Sons  of  old  freemen,  do  we  but  inherit 

Their  names  alone  ? 

"Is  the  old  Pilgrim  spirit  quenched  within  us? 
Stoops  the  proud  manhood  of  our  souls  so  low, 
That  mammon's  lure  or  party's  will  can  win  us 
To  silence  now  ? 

"No!  when  our  land  to  ruin's  brink  is  verging, 
In  God's  name  let  us  speak  while  there  is  time  1 
Now,  when  the  padlock  for  our  lips  is  forging, 
Silence  is  crime ! 

"What!  shall  we  henceforth  humbly  ask  as  favors 
Rights  all  our  own?     In  madness  shall  we  barter 
For  treacherous  peace  the  freedom  nature  gave  us, 
God  and  our  charter? 


JOHN  O.  WHITTIETC.  245 

"Here  shall  the  statesman  seek  the  free  to  fetter? 
Here  lynch  law  light  its  lurid  fires  on  high  ? 
And,  in  the  church,  their  proud  and  skilled  abettor, 
Make  truth  a  lie  ? 

"Torture  the  pages  of  the  hallowed  bible, 
To  sanction  crime,  and  robbery,  and  blood? 
And,  in  oppression's  hateful  service,  libel 

Both  man  and  God? 

"Shall  our  New  England  stand  erect  no  longer, 
But  stoop  in  chains  upon  her  downward  way, 
Thicker  to  gather  on  her  limbs  and  stronger, 
Day  after  day? 

"Oh,  no  ;  methinks  from  all  her  wild,  green  mountains — 
From  valleys  where  her  slumbering  fathers  lie, 
From  her  blue  rivers,  and  her  welling  fountains, 
And  clear,  cold  sky — 

"From  her  rough  coast,  and  isles,  which  hungry  ocean 
Gnaws  with  his  surges — from  the  fisher's  skiff, 
With  white  sail  swaying  to  the  billows'  motion, 
Round  rock  and  cliff — 

"From  the  free  fireside  of  her  unbought  farmer — 
From  her  free  laborer  at  his  loom  and  wheel — 
From  the  brown  smith-shop,  where,  beneath  the  hammer 
Rings  the  red  steel — 

"From  each  and  all,  if  God  hath  not  forsaken 
Our  land,  and  left  us  to  an  evil  choice, 
Loud  as  the  summer  thunderbolt  shall  waken 
A  people's  voice! 

"Startling  and  ster/i,  the  northern  winds  shall  bear  it 
Over  Potomac's  to  St.  Mary's  wave  ; 
And  buried  freedom  shall  awake  to  hear  it, 
"Within  her  grave. 


246  MODEKN   AGITATORS. 

"Oh,  let  that  voice  go  forth  !     The  bondman  sighing 
By  Santee's  wave,  in  Mississippi's  cane, 
Shall  feel  the  hope  within  his  bosom  dying, 
Revive  again. 

"Let  it  go  forth !     The  millions  who  are  gazing 
Sadly  upon  us  from  afar,  shall  smile, 
And  unto  God  devout  thanksgiving  raising, 
Bless  us  the  while. 

"Oh,  for  your  ancient  freedom,  pure  and  holy, 
For  a  deliverance  of  a  groaning  earth, 
For  the  wronged  captive,  bleeding,  crush'd,  and  lowly, 
Let  it  go  forth  1 

"Sons  of  the  best  of  fathers!  will  ye  falter 
With  all  they  left  ye  peril'd  and  at  stake  ? 
Ho !  once  again  on  freedom's  holy  altar 
The  fire  awake  1 

"Prayer-strengthen'd  for  the  trial  come  together, 
Put  on  the  harness  for  the  moral  fight, 
And,  with  the  blessing  of  your  heavenly  Father, 
Maintain  the  right  1  " 

Another  of  Whittier's  grand  poems  is  that  written 
after  a  meeting  had  been  held  in  Faneuil  Hall,  by 
certain  citizens  of  Boston,  to  suppress  the  freedom  of 
speech.  We  will  quote  it  entire  ;  but,  before  doing 
so,  must  relate  an  anecdote  connected  with  this  poem. 
A  dear  friend  of  ours,  now,  alas,  beneath  the  sod,  was 
a  most  passionate  admirer  of  Whittier's  poetry.  To 
him  there  was  no  other  American  poet  living,  and 
there  could  be  no  other.  Possessed  of  lofty  enthusi- 


JOHN    G.  WHITTIER.  2-17 

asm,  he  revelled  in  some  of  Whittier's  magnificent 
songs,  and  as  his  life  was  often  cast  far  away  from 
his  native  Kew  England,  he  committed  to  memory 
all  of  Whittier's  finest  poems,  so  that  he  could  repeat 
them  at  pleasure.  It  was  his  habit  to  do  this  often 
to  others,  or  alone  in  a  meditative  mood  to  himself. 
Our  paths  chanced  once  to  lie  in  one  direction,  across 
the  Atlantic,  and  one  starry  night  we  sat  late  upon 
the  quarter-deck  listening  to  his  recitation  of  his  fa 
vorite  poems.  Appreciating  every  shade  of  the  po 
et's  thought,  sharing  his  enthusiasm,  by  constant  prac 
tice  he  had  acquired  the  art  of  reading  very  finely,  and 
it  was  a  great  treat  to  hear  him.  By  thinking  often 
of  each  poem,  our  friend,  having  a  brisk  imagination, 
had  acquired  the  habit  of  prefacing  each  recitation 
with  a  story  of  the  author,  or  the  peculiar  occasion 
which  called  the  poem  forth.  We  know  not,  as  he 
pretended,  they  were  all  in  every  particular  true,  but 
we  never  shall  forget  the  impression  which  the  poem 
we  quote  below  ("  Stanzas  for  the  Times  ")m&d.Q  upon 
a  small,  English  audience,  after  his  prefatory  story. 
As  we  copy  the  poem,  we  will  venture  also  the  an 
ecdote,  not  vouching,  however,  for  its  exact  truth. 
It  was  substantially  as  follows  : 

Whittier,  at  the  time  this  poem  was  written,  was  a 

oung,  modest  man,  little  used  to  city  customs — in 

fact,  fragrant  of  clover  blossoms,  unsophisticated,  a 

pure,  young,  country  Quaker.     He  had  heard  but 


248  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

little  of  the  infamous  conduct  of  the  wealthy  and  re 
spectable  supporters  of  slavery,  living  as  lie  did  in  a 
quiet,  country  town.  One  day  his  father  sent  him 
to  Boston  on  business.  lie  came  into  the  city  in  his 
father's  plain  carriage,  dressed  in  the  sober,  homely, 
Quaker  garb,  and  put  up  at  a  "  farmer's  hotel."  He 
went  out  into  the  streets,  and  very  soon  noticed  that 
there  was  a  great  gathering  of  excited  citizens.  The 
faces  of  the  multitude  wore  a  demoniac  expression  ; 
they  seemed  to  be  hungry  for  the  blood  of  some  per 
son  or  persons.  His  thought  was  that  some  horrible 
murder  had  been  perpetrated,  and  that  the  indigna 
tion  of  the  people  could  not  be  restrained  from  sum 
mary  justice  ;  but  if  even  that  were  the  case,  he  was 
horror-struck  at  their  eagerness  for  vindictive  pun 
ishment.  He  hastily  retraced  his  steps,  and  sought 
infQrmation  from  his  landlord.  The  reply  to  his 
questions  was,  that  the  people  were  on  the  scent  of 
an  abolitionist — were  trying  to  kill  a  citizen  of  Bos 
ton  for  asserting  the  simple  rights  of  manhood.  Was 
it  indeed  so  ?  Could  it  be  so  ?  "  Yes,  verily  so." 
The  shock  was  lightning-like  ;  his  pure  nature  could 
not  easily  believe  it,  and  when  he  did,  he  uttered  no 
fiery  words,  but  went  sadly ^gain  into  the  street. 
"When  evening  came,  he  went  to  that  "  cradle  of  lib 
erty,"  old  Faneuil  Hall,  having  heard  that  the  ene 
mies  of  freedom  would  hold  a  meeting  there  that 
night.  He  was  a  silent,  shocked  spectator  of  that 


JOHN  G.  WIIITTIER.  249 

disgraceful  attempt  to  padlock  the  lips  of  freemen  ; 
lie  listened  with  mute  horror  to  the  slavish  senti 
ments  uttered  by  sons  of  the  old  Pilgrims  and  chil 
dren  of  the  revolutionary  heroes.  He  heard  men 
counsel  the  forcible  suppression  of  the  freedom,  of 
speech  upon  the  question  of  slavery — yes,  even  in  old 
Massachusetts  !  They  would  compel  men  to  silence, 
even  in  Boston,  upon  the  great  subject  of  human  lib 
erty!  He  walked  slowly,  sadly  home  to  his  hotel, 
and  calling  for  a  pen,  ink,  and  paper,  and  a  light, 
he  went  to  his  little  room,  where  he  wrote  the  fol 
lowing 

STANZAS  FOR  THE  TIMES. 

Is  this  the  land  our  fathers  loved, 
The  freedom  which  they  toiled  to  win  ? 
Is  this  the  soil  whereon  they  moved? 
Are  these  the  graves  they  slumber  in? 
Are  we  the  sons  by  whom  are  borne 
The  mantles  which  the  dead  have  worn  ? 

And  shall  we  crouch  above  these  graves, 
"With  craven  soul  and  fetter'd  lip? 
Yoke  in  with  marked  and  branded  SLAVES, 
And  tremble  at  the  driver's  whip  ? 
Bend  to  the  earth  our  pliant  knees, 
And  speak — but  as  our  masters  please  ? 

Shall  outraged  Nature  cease  to  feel  ? 
Shall  mercy's  tears  no  longer  flow  ? 
Shall  ruffian  threats  of  cord  and  steel — 
The  dungeon's  gloom — the  assassin's  blow, 
Turn  back  the  spirit  roused  to  save 
The  Truth— our  Country— and  the  Slave  t 

K* 


250  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

Of  human  skulls  that  shrine  was  made, 
Round  which  the  priests  of  Mexico 
Before  their  loathsome  idol  prayed — 
Is  freedom's  altar  fashioned  so  ? 
And  must  we  yield  to  Freedom's  God, 
As  offering  meet  the  negro's  blood? 

Shall  tongues  be  mute,  when  deeds  are  wrought 
Which  well  might  shame  extremest  Hell  ? 
Shall  freemen  lock  the  indignant  thought  ? 
Shall  Pity's  bosom  cease  to  swell  ? 
Shall  honor  bleed !  Shall  Truth  succumb  ? 
Shall  pen,  and  press,  and  soul  be  dumb? 

No — by  each  spot  of  haunted  ground, 
Where  Freedom  weeps  her  children's  fall — 
By  Plymouth's  rock,  and  Bunker's  mound, 
By  Griswolds  stained  and  shattered  wall- 
By  Warren's  ghost — by  Langdon's  shade — 
By  all  the  memories  of  our  dead ! 

By  their  enlarging  souls,  which  burst 
The  bands  and  fetters  round  them  set — 
By  the  FREE  PILGRIM  SPIRIT  nursed 
Within  our  inmost  bosoms,  yet, — 
By  all  above,  around,  below, 
Be  ours  the  indignant  answer — No! 

No — guided  by  our  country's  laws, 
For  truth,  and  right,  and  suffering  man, 
Be  ours  to  strive  in  Freedom's  cause, 
As  Christians  may  — as  freemen  can  I 
Still  pouring  on  unwilling  ears 
That  truth  oppression  only  fears. 

What !  shall  we  guard  our  neighbor  still, 
While  woman  shrinks  beneath  his  rod, 
And  while  he  tramples  down  at  will 
The  image  of  a  common  God ! 


JOHN  G.   WiUTTIEB.  251 

Shall  watch  and  ward  be  round  him  set, 
Of  Northern  nerve  and  bayonet  ? 

And  shall  we  know  and  share  with  him 

The  danger  and  the  growing  shame  ? 

And  see  our  Freedom's  light  grow  dim, 

Which  should  have  filled  the  world  with  flame  ? 

And,  writhing,  feel  where'er  we  turn, 

A  world's  reproach  around  us  burn  'i 

Is't  not  enough  that  this  is  borne  ? 
And  asks  our  haughty  neighbor  more  ? 
Must  fetters  which  his  slaves  have  worn, 
Clank  round  the  Yankee  farmer's  door? 
Must  he  be  told  beside  his  plow, 
What  he  must  speak,  and  when  and  how? 

Must  he  be  told  his  freedom  stands 
On  Slavery's  dark  foundations  strong — 
On  breaking  hearts  and  fettered  hands, 
On  robbery,  and  crime,  and  wrong? 
That  all  his  fathers  taught  is  vain — 
That  Freedom's  emblem  is  the  chain  ? 

Its  life — its  soul  from  slavery  drawn  ? 
False — foul — profane  !     Go — teach  as  well 
Of  holy  Truth  from  Falsehood  born ! 
Of  Heaven  refreshed  by  airs  from  Hell  1 
Of  Virtue  nursed  by  open  Vice  ! 
Of  Demons  planting  Paradise ! 

Rail  on,  then,  "brethren  of  the  South  " — 
Ye  shall  not  hear  the  truth  the  less — 
No  seal  is  on  the  Yankee's  mouth, 
No  fetter  on  the  Yankee's  press ! 
From  our  Green  Mountains  to  the  Sea, 
One  voice  shall  thunder — WE  ARE  FBEE  I  " 


252  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

But  if  "Whittier  can  rouse  the  stormy  passions  by 
his  warlike  songs,  so  can  he  moan  the  saddest  plaints, 
so  can  he  sing  the  gentlest  songs.  After  reading  one 
of  his  battle-hymns,  the  reader  unacquainted  with 
his  poetry,  would  scarcely  believe  that  the  same  au 
thor  has  written  some  of  the  most  touching  stanzas  to 
be  found  in  modern  poetry ;  but  such  is  the  fact. 
One  of  his  poems  entitled  "  The  Farewell"  is  one  of 
the  sweetest,  saddest,  most  musical  poems  ever  writ 
ten.  It  is  the  farewell  of  a  Virginian  slave-mother 
to  her  children  sold  to  the  far  south.  We  quote  one 
verse : 

"  Gone,  gone — sold  and  gone 
To  the  rice-swamp  dank  and  lone, 
Where  the  slave-whip  ceaseless  swings, 
Where  the  noisome  insect  stings, 
Where  the  Fever  Demon  strews 
Poison  with  the  falling  dews, 
Where  the  sickly  sunbeams  glare 
Through  the  hot  and  misty  air, — 
Gone,  gone — sold  and  gone, 
To  the  rice-swamp  dank  and  lone. 
From  Virginia's  hills  and  waters, — 
Woe  is  me,  my  stolen  daughters  1  " 

But  perhaps  as  fine  a  specimen  of  his  poetry  in 
this  vein,  is  his  poem  upon  the  death  of  Oliver  Torrey, 
^vtio  was  Secretary  of  the  Boston  Anti-Slavery  Soci 
ety,  a  young  man  of  lovely  character : 


JOHN  G.  WlliTTIEB.  253 

LINES  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  TORREY. 

Gone  before  us,  0  our  brother, 

To  the  spirit-land  1 
Vainly  look  we  for  another 

In  thy  place  to  stand. 
Who  shall  offer  youth  and  beauty 

On  the  wasting  shrine 
Of  a  atern  and  lofty  duty, 

With  a  faith  like  thine  ? 

Oh  !  thy  gentle  smile  of  greeting 

Who  again  shall  see  ? 
Who  amidst  the  solemn  meeting 

Gaze  again  on  thee  ? — 
Who,  when  peril  gathers  o'er  us, 

Wear  so  calm  a  brow  ? 
Who,  with  evil  men  before  us, 

So  serene  as  thou  ? 

Early  hath  the  spoiler  found  thee, 

Brother  of  our  love! 
Autumn's  faded  earth  around  thee, 

And  its  storms  above ! 
Evermore  that  turf  lie  lightly 

And,  with  future  showers, 
O'er  thy  slumbers  fresh  and  brightly 

Blow  the  summer  flowers  ? 

In  the  locks  thy  forehead  gracing, 

Not  a  silvery  streak  ; 
Not  a  line  of  sorrows's  tracing 

On  thy  fair  young  cheek  ; 
Eyes  of  light  and  lips  of  roses, 

Such  as  Hylas  wore — 
Over  all  that  curtain  closes, 

Which  shall  rise  no  more. 


254  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

Will  the  vigil  Love  is  keeping 

Round  that  grave  of  thine, 
Mournfully,  like  Jazar  weeping 

Over  Sibmah's  vine — 
Will  the  pleasant  memories  swelling 

Gentle  hearts  of  thee, 
In  the  spirit's  distant  dwelling 

All  unheeded  be  ? 

If  the  spirit  ever  gazes, 

From  his  journeyings  back  ; 
If  the  immortal  ever  traces 

O'er  its  mortal  track  ; 
Wilt  thou  not,  0  brother,  meet  UB 

Sometimes  on  our  way, 
And  in  hours  of  sadness  greet  us 

As  a  spirit  may  ? 

Peace  be  with  thee,  0  our  brother, 

In  the  spirit-land  1 
Vainly  look  we  for  another 

In  thy  place  to  stand. 
Unto  Truth  and  Freedom  giving 

All  thy  early  powers, 
Be  thy  virtues  with  the  living 

And  thy  spirit  ours  1 

The  selections  we  have  made  are  connected,  as  are 
a  majority  of  Whittier's  poems,  with  the  subject  of 
slavery,  and  there  are  many  quite  equal,  and  some 
very  possibly  superior,  to  the  ones  we  have  quoted, 
upon  the  same  subject.  Some  of  tiis  most  beautiful 
poems,  however,  have  nothing  to  do  with  reform. 
His  songs  of  labor  are  very  beautiful.  No  living 


JOIItf  G.  WIIITTIER.  255 

poet   loves   more   intensely   the   beauties  of  nature 
than  he. 

We  should  perhaps  beg  the  pardon  of  our  readers 
for  copying  so  many  examples  of  Whittier's  poetry  ; 
but  it  is  the  very  shortest  road  to  an  appreciation  of 
his  character.  So  little  can  be  said  of  the  man — he 
has  always  been  so  modest  and  retiring — that  we 
cannot  refrain  from  remarking  upon  some  of  his  fi 
nest  poems.  His  lines  upon  the  death  of  the  sister 
of  Joseph  Sturge  are  full  of  a  solemn  grandeur  of 
style  and  thought.  Joseph  Sturge  is  one  of  the  no 
blest  reformers  of  Great  Britain.  He  is  a  member 
of  the  Society  of  Friends,  but  has  no  bigotry,  no  re 
pulsive  fondness  for  form  in  dress,  though  he  con 
forms  to  the  usual  customs  of  his  sect.  He  is  a  lov 
able  man — a  man  who  is  almost  adored  by  the  poor 
people  of  Birmingham,  where  he  resides.  He  is 
wealthy ;  and  constantly,  unremittingly  devotes  a 
large  share  of  his  income  to  alleviate  the  sufferings  of 
the  poor  about  him.  His  sister,  Sophia  Sturge,  was 
in  her  nature  very  much  like  her  brother  Joseph, 
only  with  a  softer,  woman's  nature.  She  was  benev 
olent,  affectionate,  and  untiring  in  her  devotion  to 
the  poor.  Duty  was  always  her  master.  ]S"o  hard 
ship  could  cause  her  to  shrink  one  moment  from  it. 
She  was  not  only  a  friend  to  the  slave,  but  a  consist 
ent  advocate  of  total  abstinence  from  all  intoxica 
ting  liquors.  To  hold  such  a  position  in  English  so- 


256  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

ciety,  even  among  the  Friends,  costs  much  more  self- 
denial  than  here.  So  severely  rigorous  was  Sophia 
Sturge  that  she  refused  in  her  last  sickness  to  take, 
at  the  order  of  her  physician,  one  drop  of  the  poison 
ous  liquid,  prescribed  under  the  various  names  of 
brandy,  wine,  gin,  etc.,  etc. 

It  was  upon  this  noble  woman  that  Whittier  wrote 
the  following  lines : 

TO  MY  FRIEND  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  HIS  SISTER. 

THINE  is  a  grief,  the  depth  of  which  another 

May  never  know; 
Yet,  o'er  the  waters,  0  my  stricken  brother  I 

To  thee  I  go. 

I  lean  my  heart  unto  thee,  sadly  folding 

Thy  hand  in  mine, 
With  even  the  weakness  of  my  soul  upholding 

The  strength  of  thine. 

I  never  knew,  like  thee,  the  dear  departed ; 

I  stood  not  by 
When,  in  calm  trust,  the  pure  and  tranquil-hearted 

Lay  down  to  die. 

And  on  thy  ears  my  words  of  weak  condoling 

Must  vainly  fall': 
The  funeral  bell  which  in  thy  heart  is  tolling, 

Sounds  over  all. 

I  will  not  mock  thee  with  the  poor  world's  common 

And  heartless  phrase, 
Nor  wrong  the  memory  of  a  sainted  woman 

With  idle  praiae. 


JOHN  G.  WIIITTIEK.  257 

With  silence  only  as  their  benediction, 

God's  angels  come 
Where,  in  the  shadow  of  a  great  affliction, 

The  soul  sits  dumb! 

Yet,  would  I  say  what  thy  own  heart  approveth  : 

Our  Father's  will, 
Calling  to  him  the  dear  one  whom  he  loveth, 

Is  mercy  still. 

Not  upon  thee  or  thine  the  solemn  angel 

Hath  evil  wrought; 
Her  funeral  anthem  is  a  glad  evangel — 

The  good  die  not ! 

God  calls  our  loved  ones,  but  we  lose  not  wholly 

What  he  hath  given ; 
They  live  on  earth,  in  thought  and  deed,  as  truly 

As  in  his  heaven. 

And  she  is  with  thee  ;  in  thy  path  of  trials 

She  walketh  yet ; 
Still  with  the  baptism  of  thy  self-denial 

Her  locks  are  wet 

Up  then,  my  brother!     Lo,  the  fields  of  harvest 

Lie  white  in  view  ! 
She  lives  and  loves  thee,  and  the  God  thou  servest 

To  both  is  true. 

Thrust  in  thy  sickle !     England's  toil-worn  peasants 

Thy  call  abide ; 
And  she  thou  mourn'st,  a  pure  and  holy  presence 

Shall  glean  beside ! 

Another  of  Whittier's  sweetest  poems  is  that  enti 
tied  "  GONE,"  and  commencing  as  follows  : 

17 


258  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

"Another  hand  is  beckoning  us, 

Another  call  is  given ; 
And  glows  once  more  with  angel  steps 
The  path  which  reaches  heaven." 

There  is  a  subdued,  softened  pathos  in  it  scarcely  sur 
passed  in  the  whole  range  of  modern  poetry.  "We 
will  give  the  remaining  stanzas : 

"  Our  young  and  gentle  friend,  whose  smile 

Made  brighter  summer  hours, 

Amid  the  frosts  of  autumn  time 

Has  left  us,  with  the  flowers. 

"No  paling  of  the  cheek  of  bloom 

Forewarned  us  of  decay ; 
No  shadow  from  the  silent  land 
Fell  round  our  sister's  way. 

"The  light  of  her  young  life  went  down, 

As  sinks  behind  the  hill 
The  glory  of  a  setting  star — 
Clear,  suddenly,  and  still 

"As  pure  and  sweet  her  fair  brow  seemed, 

Eternal  as  the  sky; 

And  like  the  brook's  low  song,  her  voice — • 
A  sound  which  could  not  die. 

"And  half  we  deemed  she  needed  not 

The  changing  of  her  sphere, 

To  give  to  heaven  a  shining  one, 

Who  walked  an  angel  here. 

"The  blessing  of  her  quiet  life 

Fell  on  us  like  the  dew  ; 

And  good  thoughts,  where  her  footsteps  preae'd 
Like  fairy  blossoms  grew. 


JOHN  G.  WHITTIER.  259 

"Sweet  promptings  unto  kindest  deeds 

Were  in  her  very  look  ; 
We  read  her  face,  as  one  who  reads 
A  true  and  holy  book. 

"The  measure  of  a  blessed  hymn, 

To  which  our  hearts  could  move; 
The  breathing  of  an  inward  psalm ; 
A  canticle  of  love. 

"We  miss  her  in  the  place  of  prayer, 

And  by  the  hearth-fire's  light ; 
We  pause  beside  her  door  to  hear 
Oiice  more  her  sweet  '  Good  night  I  * 

"  There  seems  a  shadow  on  the  day, 

Her  smile  no  longer  cheers  ; 
A  dimness  on  the  stars  of  night, 
Like  eyes  that  look  through  tears. 

"Alone  unto  our  Father's  will 

One  thought  hath  reconciled ; 
That  He  whose  love  exceedeth  ours 
Hath  taken  home  His  child. 

"Fold  her,  oh  Father!  in  thine  arms, 

And  let  her  henceforth  be 
A  messenger  of  love  between 
Our  human  hearts  and  Thee. 

'Still  let  her  mild  rebuking  stand 

Between  us  and  the  wrong, 
And  her  dear  memory  serve  to  make 

Our  faith  in  goodness  strong. 

**And,  grant  that  she  who,  trembling,  here, 

Distrusted  all  her  powers,  '^t-^, 

May  welcome  to  her  holier  home 
The  well-beloved  of  ours." 


260  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

The  last  poem  we  shall  quote  is  one  of  the  latest 
productions  of  Mr.  Whittier,  and  to  us  it  seems  one 
of  the  very  best  of  his  gentle  poems.  The  contrast 
between  it  and  one  of  his  warlike  pieces  is  great. 
The  poem  is  entitled 

MAUD  MULLER. 

MAUD  MULLER,  on  a  summer's  day, 
Raked  the  meadow  sweet  with  hay. 

Beneath  her  torn  hat  glowed  the  wealth 
Of  simple  beauty  and  rustic  health. 

Singing,  she  wrought,  and  her  merry  glee 
The  mock-bird  reechoed  from  every  tree. 

But  when  she  glanced  to  the  far-off  town, 
White  from  its  hill-slope  looking  down, 

The  sweet  song  died,  and  a  vague  unrest 
And  a  nameless  longing  filled  her  breast — 

A  wish,  that  she  hardly  dared  to  own, 
For  something  better  than  she  had  known. 

The  Judge  rode  slowly  down  the  lane, 
Smoothing  his  horse's  chestnut  mane. 

He  drew  his  bridle  in  the  shade 

Of  the  apple-trees,  to  greet  the  maid, 

And  ask  a  draught  from  the  spring  that  flowed 
Through  the  meadow,  across  the  road. 

She  stooped  where  the  cool  spring  bubbled  up, 
And  filled  for  him  her  small  tin  cup, 

And  blushed  as  she  gave  it,  looking  down 
On  her  feet  so  bare,  and  her  tattered  gown. 


JOHN  G.  WHITTIER.  261 

"Thanks!  "  said  the  Judge,  "  a  sweeter  draught 
From  fairer  hand  was  never  quaffed." 

He  spoke  of  the  grass,  and  flowers,  and  trees, 
Of  the  singing  birds  and  humming  bees ; 

Then  talked  of  the  haying,  and  wondered  whether 
The  cloud  in  the  west  would  bring  foul  weather. 

And  Maud  forgot  her  brier-torn  gown, 
And  her  graceful  ankles  bare  and  brown ; 

And  listened,  while  a  pleased  surprise 
Looked  from  her  long-lashed  hazel  eyes. 

At  last,  like  one  who  for  delay 
Seeks  a  vain  excuse,  he  rode  away. 

Maud  Muller  looked  and  sighed:  "Ah  mel 
That  I  the  Judge's  bride  might  be  ! 

"  He  would  dress  me  up  in  silks  so  fine, 
And  praise  and  toast  me  at  his  wine. 

"My  father  should  wear  a  broadcloth  coat ; 
My  brother  should  sail  a  painted  boat. 

"I'd  dress  my  mother  so  grand  and  gay 

And  the  baby  should  have  a  new  toy  each  day. 

"  And  I'd  feed  the  hungry  and  clothe  the  poor, 
And  all  should  bless  me  who  left  our  door." 

The  Judge  looked  back  as  he  climbed  the  hill, 
And  saw  Maud  Muller  standing  still. 

"  A  form  more  fair,  a  face  more  sweet, 
Ne'er  hath  it  been  my  lot  to  meet. 

"And  her  modest  answer  and  graceful  air 
Show  her  wise  and  good  as  she  is  fair. 


262  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

"  Would  she  were  mine,  and  I  to-day, 
Like  her,  a  harvester  of  hay  ; 

"No  doubtful  balance  of  rights  and  wrongs, 
Nor  weary  lawyers  with  endless  tongues, 

"But  the  low  of  cattle  and  song  of  birds, 
And  health  and  quiet  and  loving  words." 

But  he  thought  of  his  sister,  proud  and  cold, 
And  his  mother,  vain  of  her  rank  and  gold. 

So,  closing  his  heart,  the  Judge  rode  on, 
And  Maud  was  left  in  the  field  alone. 

But  the  lawyers  smiled  that  afternoon, 
When  he  hummed  in  court  an  old  love-tune; 

And  the  young  girl  mused  beside  the  well, 
Till  the  rain  on  the  unraked  clover  fell. 

He  wedded  a  wife  of  richest  dower, 
Who  lived  for  fashipn  as  he  for  power. 

Yet  oft,  in  his  marble  hearth's  bright  glow, 
He  watched  a  picture  come  and  go; 

And  sweet  Maud  Muller's  hazel  eyes 
Looked  out  in  their  innocent  surprise. 

Oft,  when  the  wine  in  his  glass  was  red, 
He  longed  for  the  way -side  well  instead  ; 

And  closed  his  eyes  on  his  garnished  rooms, 
To  dream  of  meadows  and  clover  blooms. 

And  the  proud  man  sighed  with  a  secret  pain 
"  Ah,  that  I  were  free  again ! 

"Free  as  when  I  rode  that  day, 

Where  the  barefoot  maiden  raked  the  hay!  " 


JOHN  G.  WIIITTIER. 

She  wedded  a  man  unlearned  and  poor, 
And  manj'  children  pla}*ed  round  her  door. 

But  care  and  sorrow,  and  child-birth  pain, 
Left  their  traces  on  heart  and  brain. 

A.nd  oft,  when  the  summer  sun  shone  hot 
On  the  new-mown  hay  in  the  meadow  lot, 

And  she  heard  the  little  spring-brook  fall 
Over  the  road-side,  through  the  wall, 

In  the  shade  of  the  apple-tree  again 
She  saw  a  rider  draw  his  rein, 

And,  gazing  down  with  a  timid  grace, 
She  felt  his  pleased  eyes  read  her  face. 

Sometimes  her  narrow  kitchen  walls 
Stretched  away  into  stately  halls  ; 

The  weary  wheel  to  a  spinnet  turned, 
The  tallow  candle  an  astral  burned, 

And  for  him  who  sat  by  the  chimney-lug 
Dozing  and  grumbling  o'er  pipe  and  mug, 

A  manly  form  at  her  side  she  saw, 
And  joy  was  duty  and  love  and  law. 

Then  she  took  up  the  burden  of  life  again, 
Saying  only,  "It  might  have  been." 

Alas  for  maiden,  alas  for  Judge, 

For  rich  repiner  and  household  drudge ! 

God  pity  them  both  !  and  pity  us  all, 
Who  vainly  the  dreams  of  youth  recall. 

For  of  all  sad  words  of  tongue  and  pen, 

Th«  saddest  are  these:    "It  might  have  been  ! 


264:  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

Ah  !  well  for  us  all,  some  sweet  hope  lies 
Deeply  buried  from  human  eyes ; 

And,  in  the  hereafter,  angels  may 
Roll  the  stone  from  its  grave  away. 

The  clear,  bright  morning,  the  burning  noon, 
the  still,  calm  evening,  the  rocky  mountains  of  New 
England,  the  broad  prairies  of  the  west,  and  the  gor 
geous  scenery  of  the  south,  have  each  and  all  been 
the  theme  of  his  song.  There  is  a  quiet  beauty,  a 
half-sad  gentleness  in  many  of  his  poems,  which  con 
trasts  strangely  with  the  fiery  eloquence  which  char 
acterizes  others.  No  American  poet  has,  in  our  opin 
ion,  equaled  Whittier  in  all  that  is  intensely  passion 
ate,  impetuous  and  warlike,  and  there  are  few  that 
equal  him  in  the  pathetic  and  the  beautiful.  His 
sarcasm  is  terribly  keen — as  a  sample  of  this,  we  re 
fer  the  reader  to  his  poem  upon  the  publisher  of  a 
popular  magazine,  who  took  such  exceeding  pains  to 
let  the  south  know  that  he  employed  no  anti-slavery 
writers  upon  his  namby-pamby  monthly.  One  of 
the  most  memorable  of  his  poems,  is  that  upon  Dan 
iel  Webster.  It  is  like  the  wildly  solemn  wind  in 
late  autumn,  moaning  through  the  pines  over  the 
desolateness  of  Nature.  No  ordinary  poet  could 
write  a  poem,  meet  even  for  the  fall  of  such  a  great 
man  as  Webster — but  "  Ichabod  "  is  a  poem  which, 
in  grandeur,  is  fit  to  commemorate  the  downfall  of 
such  a  collossal  man !  But  we  will  not  attempt  a 


JOHN  G.   WUITTIER.  265 

criticism  upon  Whittier — we  have  intended  only  to 
point  out  what  are  to  us  some  of  his  most  striking 
characteristics,  illustrating  these  by  a  few  specimens 
of  his  reform-poetry.  We  know  of  no  man  more 
worthy  of  the  name  Agitator  than  he,  and  few  there 
are  living  in  the  world,  more  sure  to  live  in  the 
hearts  of  future  generations. 


HORACE  BUSHNELL,  D.  D. 

IT  is  our  intention  in  these  sketches  of  modern  agi 
tators,  not  to  be  confined  to  one  class  of  reformers. 
We  shall  endeavor  to  draw  the  portraits  of  agitators 
in  church  as  well  as  in  state  ;  of  some  of  those  noble 
men  who  have  battled  manfully  the  slavery  of  intem 
perance,  as  well  as  of  the  agitators  against  negro,  sla 
very.  But  we  have  been  struck  with  surprise  to  find 
that  the  modern  agitator  is  usually  an  advocate  of  all 
the  just  reforms  of  the  day.  It  is  very  difficult  to 
find  a  man  of  original  and  reformatory  ideas  in  the 
church,  who  is  an  opponent  of  the  cause  of  temper 
ance,  or  who  withholds  his  sympathy  from  the  friends 
of  freedom.  The  leading  enemies  of  rum  are  gener 
ally  friendly  to  the  cause  of  the  slave,  and  the  anti- 
slavery  men  of  the  land  are  almost  unanimously  de 
voted  temperance  advocates. 

The  reader  will  perhaps  naturally  suppose  that 
when  we  placed  Dr.  BushnelPs  name  at  the  head  of 
this  article,  we  had  in  mind  the  theological  agitation 
caused  throughout  the  country,  and  especially  in  Con 
necticut,  by  his  somewhat  celebrated  volume,  enti 
tled,  "  God  in  Christ"  Such  was  not  the  case.  As 


HORACE  BUSHNELL,  D.  D.  267 

to  the  merits  of  that  controversy,  which  is  not  yet  set 
tled,  we  have  here  nothing  to  say,  either  in  approval 
or  condemnation  of  Dr.  Bushnell.  We  make  no  pre 
tensions  to  theological  acquirements,  and  are  not 
competent  to  discuss,  much  less  decide,  the  points  in 
dispute.  But  we  look  upon  Dr.  Bushnell  as  one  of 
the  most  profound  agitators  of  the  age.  We  think  in 
reference  to  theological  matters,  that  the  spirit  of  the 
age  is  in  him.  The  drift  of  his  published  writings  is 
continually  toward  a  liberal,  unsectarian,  and  practi 
cal  Christianity.  He  makes  deadly  war  upon  mere 
creeds,  and  urges  most  earnestly  upon  the  Christian 
world  a  better  practice.  "  Deeds,  not  words,"  is  the 
essence  of  the  religion  he  preaches.  It  seems  to  us 
that  the  reader  must  be  obtuse  who  reading  Bushnell 
sees  only  his  peculiar  views  of  the  trinity  and  the  suf 
ferings  of  Christ.  His  opinions  upon  these  points 
may  be  accepted  or  rejected,  and  the  time  may  be 
coming  when  they  will  be  forgotten,  but  he  will  be 
remembered ;  and  the  books  which  contain  his  pe 
culiar  views  may  live,  but  they  will  not  detract  from 
the  author's  reputation.  As  an  early,  eloquent,  and 
intellectually  powerful  advocate  of  a  more  generous 
Christianity  than  that  born  of  creeds,  as  a  great  de 
fender  of  the  important  truths  of  the  gospel  upon 
philosophical  principles,  he  will  live  in  future  genera 
tions.  In  this  skeptical  age,  such  a  man  is  precious 
to  the  cause  of  pure  religion,  for  he  meets  the  skeptic 


268  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

with  sound  argument,  instead  of  denunciation,  with 
a  profound  love  for  Christ,  instead  of  a  burning  ha 
tred  of  those  who  unfortunately  have  lost,  or  never 
found,  the  path  which  leads  to  Him.  It  is  this  cath 
olic,  charitable  tendency  in  all  Dr.  Bushnell's  wri 
tings  which  awakens  agitation  wherever  they  are 
read,  and  which  excites  the  bitter  opposition  of  con 
servatives  in  the  church.  He  has  been  accused  by 
men  actively  engaged  in  important  reforms  of  with 
holding  his  aid  from  them,  and  of  being  so  absorbed 
in  convincing  men  of  the  importance  of  more  religion 
in  the  life,  as  to  overlook  the  miserable  drunkard  in 
the  streets,  and  the  panting  fugitive  at  his  door — in 
fact,  to  neglect  to  practice  what  he  preaches.  But 
it  must  be  remembered,  that,  to  some  men,  it  is 
given  to  enunciate  great  principles  which  underlie 
the  foundations  of  society,  or  which  should  underlie 
society,  and  of  such  men  little  more  can  be  asked. 
A  slave-holder  cannot  live  upon  the  food  which  Dr. 
Bushnell  offers  to  him ;  the  rumseller  would  choke 
upon  it.  And  though  the  doctor  does  not  often 
preach  anti-slavery  or  temperance  sermons  (perhaps 
not  so  often  as  he  should,)  yet  when  he  does,  he 
speaks  boldly  for  the  right.  Years  ago,  on  the  eve 
of  an  exciting  election,  he  came  out  in  his  pulpit  one 
Sabbath  day  with  a  sermon  upon  the  duties  of  Chris 
tian  voters,  which  was  like  a  bomb-shell  thrown  into 
a  peaceful  town.  It  was  unexpected  ;  the  people 


HORACE  BrSHNELL,  D.   D.  200 

were  not  prepared  for  it ;  but  it  was  a  bold  enuncia 
tion  of  God's  truth,  and  his  hearers  sat  still,  and  lis 
tened  somewhat  as  children  do  to  God's  thunder.  He 
has  also  condemned  in  the  strongest  language  the  fu 
gitive  slave  act,  so  that  his  views  upon  this  part  of 
the  great  compromise  are  everywhere  known.  But 
he  deals  usually  in  great  general  principles,  rather 
than  every-day  applications  of  such  principles.  Per 
haps  he  errs  in  this  ;  we  have  thought  it  would  be  a 
greater  service  to  the  world  if  he  would  dwell  more 
upon  the  sins  which  are  eating  into  its  very  heart ; 
but  we  cannot  ignore  the  fact,  that  all  his  productions 
and  performances  tend  toward  reform  in  church  and 
state. 

Horace  Bushnell  is  a  native  of  the  town  of  Litch- 
field,  Connecticut,  and  is  about  fifty  years  of  age. 
His  father  was  a  clothier,  a  man  of  sterling  character 
and  intellect.  His  mother  was  one  of  the  gentlest 
and  most  affectionate  of  women.  When  Horace  was 
two  years  old,  his  father  moved  into  the  town  of  J^ew 
Preston,  where  we  believe  he  continued  to  reside  for 
a  number  of  years.  The  little  that  we  know  of  Dr. 
Bushnell's  early  life  can  quickly  be  written.  He  en 
tered  Yale  College,  and  graduated  in  the  year  1827. 
Two  years  afterward  he  was  appointed  a  tutor  in  the 
same  institution,  which  office  he  filled  for  two  years. 
He  next  removed  to  the  city  of  New  York,  where  for 
a  time  he  edited  a  newspaper.  He  at  length  entered 


270  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

upon  a  theological  course,  to  prepare  himself  for  the 
ministry.  He  was  ordained  over  the  North  church, 
in  Hartford,  May  22,  1833,  and  has  continued  to 
preach  with  great  acceptance  to  the  same  church  un 
til  the  present  day.  He  was  married  when  young, 
to  Miss  Mary  Apthorpe,  of  New  Haven,  by  whom  lie 
has  had  five  children,  three  of  whom  are  living. 

In  Dr.  Bushnell's  discourse,  delivered  at  the  cen 
tennial  celebration  of  Litchfield  county,  he  has  given 
us  a  picture  or  two  of  his  boyish  days,  which  are  suf 
ficiently  graphic  and  beautiful  to  excuse  us  for  quo 
ting  them  here.  He  says  : 

"But  the  schools  —  we  must  not  pass  by  these  if  we  are  to 
form  a  truthful  and  sufficient  picture  of  the  home-spun  days. 
The  schoolmaster  did  not  exactly  go  round  the  district  to  fit  out 
the  children's  minds  with  learning,  as  the  shoe-maker  often  did 
to  fit  their  feet  with  shoes,  or  the  tailors  to  measure  and  cut 
for  their  bodies ;  but,  to  come  as  near  it  as  possible,  he  boarded 
round,  (a  custom  not  yet  gone  by,)  and  the  wood  for  the  com 
mon  fire  was  supplied  in  a  way  equally  primitive,  viz :  by  a 
contribution  of  loads  from  the  several  families,  according  to 
their  several  quantities  of  childhood.  *  *  *  *  There 
was  no  complaint  in  those  days  of  the  want  of  ventilation ;  for 
the  large  open  fire-place  held  a  considerable  fraction  of  a  cord 
of  wood,  and  the  windows  took  in  just  enough  air  to  supply 
the  combustion.  Besides,  the  bigger  lads  were  occasionally 
ventilated  by  being  sent  out  to  cut  wood  enough  to  keep  ths 
fire  in  action.  The  seats  were  made  of  the  outer  slabs  from 


HORACE  BUSHNELL,  D.  D.  271 

the  saw-mill,  supported  by  slant  legs  driven  into  and  a  proper 
distance  through  auger  holes,  and  planed  smooth  on  the  top  by 
the  rather  tardy  process  of  friction.  But  the  spelling  went  on 
bravely,  and  we  ciphered  away  again  and  again,  always  till  we 
got  through  "  loss  and  gain."  The  more  advanced  of  us,  too, 
made  light  work  of  Lindley  Murray,  and  went  on  to  the  pars 
ing,  finally,  of  extracts  from  Shakspeare  and  Milton,  till  some 
of  us  began  to  think  we  had  mastered  their  tough  sentences  in 
a  more  consequential  sense  than  was  exactly  true.  O,  I  re 
member  (about  the  remotest  thing  I  can  remember)  that  low 
seat,  too  high,  nevertheless,  to  allow  the  feet  to  touch  the  floor, 
and  that  friendly  teacher  who  had  the  address  to  start  a  fresh 
feeling  of  enthusiasm  and  awaken  the  first  sense  of  power.  He 
is  living  still,  and  whenever  I  think  of  him,  he  rises  up  to  me 
in  the  far  background  of  memory,  as  bright  as  if  he  had  worn 
the  seven  stars  in  his  hair." 

Still  farther  on,  he  says : 

"  I  remember  being  despatched,  when  a  lad,  one  Saturday 
afternoon,  in  the  winter,  to  bring  home  a  few  bushels  of  apples 
engaged  of  a  farmer  a  mile  distant ;  but  the  careful,  exact  man 
looked  first  at  the  clock,  then  out  the  window  at  the  sun,  and 
turning  to  me  said,  'I  cannot  measure  out  the  apples  in  time 
for  you  to  get  home  before  sundown,  you  must  come  again 
Monday ; '  then  how  I  went  home  venting  my  boyish  impa 
tience  in  words  not  exactly  respectful,  assisted  by  the  sunlight 
playing  still  upon  the  eastern  hills,  and  got  for  my  comfort  a 
very  unaccountably  small  amount  of  specially  silent  sympathy." 


272  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

In  1833  Dr.  Buslmell,  we  have  said,  was  ordained 
over  the  North  church,  in  Hartford.  Twenty  years 
afterward — last  May — he  preached  a  "  commemora 
tive  discourse,"  in  which  he  alluded,  in  the  following 
language,  to  his  first  visit  to  said  church  : 

"I  received  a  letter  in  February,  1833,  inviting  me  to  come 
and  preach,  for  a  time,  to  this  congregation,  of  which  I  knew 
nothing  save  that  you  had  recently  parted  with  your  pastor. 
I  arrived  here  late  in  the  afternoon,  in  a  furious  snow  storm, 
after  floundering  all  day  in  the  heavy  drifts  the  storm  was  rais 
ing  among  the  hills  between  here  and  Litchfield.  1  went,  as 
invited,  directly  to  the  house  of  the  chairman  of  the  commit 
tee  ;  but  I  had  scarcely  warmed  me,  and  not  at  all  relieved 
the  hunger  of  my  fast,  when  he  came  in  and  told  me  that  ar 
rangements  had  been  made  for  me  with  one  of  the  fathers  of 
the  church,  and  immediately  sent  me  off  with  my  baggage  to 
the  quarters  assigned.  Of  course  I  had  no  complaint  to  make, 
though  the  fire  seemed  very  inviting  and  the  house  attractive ; 
but  when  I  came  to  know  the  hospitality  of  my  friend,  as  I  had 
abundant  opportunity  of  knowing  it  afterward,  it  became  some- 
what  of  a  mystery  to  me  that  I  should  have  been  despatched 
in  this  rather  summary  fashion.  But  it  came  out  three  or  four 
years  after,  that  as  there  were  two  parties  strongly  marked  in 
the  church,  an  old  and  new  school  party,  as  related  to  the  New 
Haven  controversy,  the  committee  had  made  up  their  mind, 
very  prudently,  that  it  would  not  do  for  me  to  stay  even  for 
an  hour  with  the  new  school  brother  of  the  committee ;  and 
for  this  reason  they  had  made  interest  with  the  elder  brother 


HORACE  BUBIINELL,  D-  D.  273 

referred  to,  because  he  was  a  man  of  the  school  simply  of  Je 
sus  Christ.  And  here,  under  cover  of  his  good  hospitality,  which 
I  hope  he  has  never  found  reason  to  regret — extended  by  him 
and  received  by  me  in  equal  simplicity — I  was  put  in  hospital 
and  kept  away  from  the  infected  districts,  preparatory  to  a  set- 
tlement  in  the  North  church,  of  Hartford.  I  mention  this  fact 
to  show  the  very  delicate  condition  prepared  for  the  young  pas 
tor,  who  is  to  be  thus  daintily  inserted  between  an  acid  and 
an  alkali,  having  it  for  his  task  both  to  keep  them  apart  and 
to  save  himself  from  being  bitten  of  one  or  devoured  by  the 
other." 

No  pastor  was  ever  more  loved  and  respected  than 
is  Dr.  Bushnell  by  his  church  and  congregation.  For 
twenty  years  he  has  occupied  the  pulpit  of  the  old 
North  church,  and  not  a  whisper  of  his  dismission 
ever  yet  was  heard.  "We  do  not  mean  that  he  has 
never  raised  a  storm  in  the  church  by  his  faithful 
preaching,  but  his  hearers  have  loved  him  so  well 
that  they  could  not  remain  angry  with  him.  When 
he  came  out  so  fearlessly  in  condemnation  of  the  cor 
rupt  politics  of  the  time,  an  angry  agitation  for  a  lit 
tle  while  surrounded  him,  but  it  soon  passed  away. 
In  his  "  Discourse,"  preached  May,  1853,  he  speaks 
thus  pithily  of  it : 

"  I  preached  a  fast-day  sermon,  showing  that  "  politics  are 

under  the  law  of  God."     Wise  or  unwise  in  the  manner,  it  was 

greatly  offensive  to  some,  but  the  offense  was  soon  forgiven ; 

in  consideration,  I  suppose,  of  the  fact  that,  apart  from  the 

L*  18 


274:  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

manner,  the  doctrine  was  abundantly  wanted,  and  even  sol 
emnly  true." 

We  will  not  attempt  to  sketch  the  history  of  the 
late  agitation  in  reference  to  his  "  God  in  Christ" 
for  it  is  too  near  the  present,  even  had  we  the  space, 
to  justify  such  a  history.  Dr.  Bushnell  first  preached 
a  sermon  before  the  Concio  ad  Clerum,  at  New  Ha 
ven.  He  was  selected  by  the  district  association  for 
that  purpose,  and  the  general  association,  as  is  its 
usual  custom,  selected  his  subject.  The  sermon  thus 
preached  constitutes  the  first  part  of  "God  in  Christ" 
He  was  next  invited  to  deliver  an  address  before  some 
society  at  Cambridge,  which  he  accepted,  and  that 
sermon  constitutes  the  second  part  of  his  celebrated 
book.  He  next  delivered  an  address  before  the  theo 
logical  students  at  Andover,  at  their  request,  and  that 
constitutes  the  third  and  last  part  of  his  book.  These 
three  parts,  together  with  an  introductory  essay  upon 
language,  make  up  the  book,  which  has  created  such 
an  agitation  among  the  churches,  and  which  has  been 
republished  and  sold  extensively  in  England.  He 
was  charged  with  heresy,  and  the  association  to  which 
he  belonged  instituted  an  inquiry  into  the  truth  of 
the  charge,  and  after  examination  voted  seventeen  to 
three,  that  while  his  peculiar  views  were  not  accepted 
by  that  body,  yet  they  saw  no  such  heresy  as  would 
warrant  further  proceedings.  It  is  claimed  by  hie 


HORACE  BUSKNELL,  D.  D.  275 

accusers,  that  he  tramples  upon  the  orthodox  doc 
trines  in  reference  to  the  trinity,  the  person  of  Christ, 
and  the  atonement.  In  the  sermon  from  which  we 
have  made  quotations,  he  says  : 

"It  is  very  true  that  I  have  presented  some  explanations  of 
three  important  doctrines,  the  trinity,  the  person  of  Christ/  and 
atonement,  which  differ  in  their  shade  from  the  explanations 
given  by  my  brethren.  Are  we  therefore  to  exclude  each 
other  ?  Still  we  can  preach  a  trinity,  Father,  Son,  and  Holy 
Ghost,  three  persons,  in  a  hearty  love  of  trinity  itself,  and  re 
garding  it  as  a  conception  of  God  without  which  he  were  a  be 
ing  practically  distant  from  us.  And  if  we  should  happen  to 
preach  three  persons  meaning  something  a  little  different  by  the 
word  person,  just  as  all  the  wisest  teachers  of  the  ages  before 
us  have  consented  in  the  right  to  do,  might  we  not  have  good 
cause  to  say  that  in  effect  we  agree  7 

"  As  regards  the  divinity  of  Christ,  we  have  happily  no  ap 
pearance  of  controversy.  And  if  we  do  not  conceive  the  phi 
losophy  of  his  person  just  alike,  let  it  be  enough  that  we  can 
preach  him  as  a  person,  Son  of  God  and  Son  of  Man,  tempted 
in  all  points  as  we  are,  without  sin,  one  with  us  in  the  line  of 
Adam,  born  into  the  race,  the  child  of  a  virgin,  conceived  by 
the  Holy  Ghost,  grown  up  to  be  a  perfect,  the  only  perfect 
man,  God  manifest  in  the  flesh. 

"As  regards  the  work  or  sacrifice  of  Christ,  we  can  agree  in 
showing  that  he  lives  a  suffering  life,  dies  a  suffering  death , 
that  by  his  life  and  death  he  so  compensates  the  dishonored 
law  and  fortifies  the  divine  justice  that  pardon  is  dispensed,  not 


276  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

in  mere  paternal  clemency,  but  in  a  way  of  justification ;  con 
sequently  that  we  are  justified  by  faith  without  the  deeds  of 
tne  law,  and  so  that  Christ  is  made  unto  us  wisdom,  righteous- 
ness,  sanctification  and  redemption." 

The  Presbyterian  Quarterly  says  : 

"  His  (Dr.  Bushnell's)  mind  is  one  of  no  common  force  or 
compass.  Original,  imaginative,  shrewd,  cultivated,  compre 
hensive,  naturally,  at  least,  ambitious,  it  is  not  strange  that  ho 
should  make  an  impression  upon  the  American  Church.  His 
is  one  of  the  most  active,  versatile,  outlooking  natures  which 
the  atmosphere  of  an  age,  especially  such  an  atmosphere  as  that 
of  ours,  would  reach  soonest.  We  do  not  know  when  we  have 
been  so  much  struck  with  anything  as  with  an  oration  of  Dr. 
Bushnell's,  delivered  to  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa,  at  Cambridge,  and 
which  we  have  seen  for  the  first  time  among  his  publications, 
in  a  recent  collection  we  made  of  them,  for  careful  study.  He 
declines  giving  any  name  for  his  theme;  but  it  appears  to  be 
"  Work  and  Play." 

"  It  is  quite  obvious,  we  think,  that  Dr.  Bushnell  had  con 
ceived  the  idea  of  converting  the  Unitarians,  by  fusing  their 
views  and  those  of  the  Orthodox  together,  in  the  crucible  of  a 
profounder  philosophy,  by  dissolving  scriptural  truth,  so  to  speak, 
hi  an  oriental  atmosphere.  *  *  *  It  were  a  great  feat  of 
spiritual  ambition,  not  to  speak  of  nobler  motives,  to  bring  in, 
on  the  deep  current  of  Platonism,  a  compromise  that,  melting 
New  Haven  and  Cambridge  together,  might  reunite  all  the  Con 
gregational  churches,  and  present  the  finest  essence  of  New 
England  mind  and  character,  blended  in  religion,  upon  the  pro- 
foundest  grounds  of  philosophy.  Thus,  one  of  the  discourses 


HORACE  BUSHNELL,  D.  D.  V  |  < 

iu  the  book,  called  "  God  in  Christ,"  was  delivered  at  Cambridge, 
to  the  Divinity  School.  It  is  upon  the  Atonement,  and  is  a 
kind  of  ultimate  in  the  way  of  compromise,  a  method  of  doc 
trinal  torture  of  a  most  trauscendant  kind,  intended  to  show 
Harvard  how  a  man  may  hold  a  Calvinistic  Atonement  so  as 
to  be  almost  an  aesthetic  Unitarian." 

1ST.  P.  Willis,  in  his  Journal,  quotes  him,  and 
remarks : 

"  But  the  evangelical  world  will  be  interested  to  know  that 
this  sermon  of  Dr.  Bushnell  is  not  a  new  one.  He  preached 
it  seventeen  years  ago,  and  to  us  individually — or  at  least,  a  ser 
mon  turning  precisely  on  the  same  convergent  and  reciproco 
frictionizing  philosophy.  The  reader  will  presently  see  how 
we  have  had  a  daily  mnemonic,  since,  to  remind  us  to  practice 
what  it  taught. 

"Seniors  and  classmates  at  Yale,  in  1827,  we  occupied  the 
'  third  story,  back,  north  college,  north  entry ' — Bushnell  in  the 
north-west  corner.  As  a  student,  our  classmate  and  neighbor 
was  a  black-haired,  earnest-eyed,  sturdy,  carelessly-dressed,  ath 
letic  and  independent  good  fellow — popular  in  spite  of  being 
both  blunt  and  exemplary.  We  have  seen  him  but  once  since 
those  days,  and  then  we  chanced  to  meet  him  on  a  steamer  on 
the  Rhine — in  the  year  1845,  we  think — both  of  us,  (over 
worked  in  our  respective  parishes,)  voyagers  for  health.  But 
to  our  story. 

"  The  chapel  bell  was  ringing  us  to  prayers  one  summer's 
morning ;  and  Bushnell,  on  his  punctual  way,  chanced  to  look 
in  at  the  opposite  door,  where  we  were — with  the  longitudinal 


278  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

straight  come  and  go  which  we  thought  the  philosophy  of  it— 
strapping  our  razor.  (The  beard  was  then  a  new  customer  of 
ours.)  The  pending  shave,  of  course,  was  not  to  release  us  in 
time  for  more  than  the  tutor's  amen ;  but  that  was  not  the  text 
of  our  classmate's  sermon.  '  Why,  man ! '  said  he,  rushing 
in  and  seizing  the  instrument  without  ceremony,  '  is  that  the 
way  you  strap  a  razor1?'  He  grasped  the  strop  in  his  other 
hand,  and  we  have  remembered  his  tone  and  manner  almost 
three  hundred  and  sixty -five  times  a  year  ever  since,  as  he  threw 
out  his  two  elbows  and  showed  us  how  it  should  be  done.  '  By 
drawing  it  from  heel  to  point,  both  ways,'  said  he,  'thus,  and 
thus;  you  make  the  two  cross  frictions  correct  each  other.' 
And  dropping  the  razor,  with  this  brief  lesson,  he  started  on 
an  overtaking  trot  to  the  chapel,  the  bell  having  stopped  ringing 
as  he  scanned  the  improved  edge  with  his  equally  sharp  black 
eye.  Now,  will  any  one  deny  that  these  brief  but  excellent 
directions,  for  making  the  roughness  of  opposite  sides  contrib 
ute  to  a  mutual  fine  edge,  seem  to  have  been  '  the  tune '  of  the 
doctor's  sermon  to  the  Unitarians  ?  Our  first  hearing  of  the 
discourse  was  precisely  as  we  have  narrated  it,  and  we  thank 
the  doctor  for  most  edifying  comfort  out  of  the  doctrine,  as  we 
trust  his  later  hearers  will,  after  as  many  years." 

Dr.  Buslmell  possesses  few  of  the  graces  of  a  pul 
pit  orator.  He  lacks  in  forcible  gesture,  is  scarcely 
ever  impassioned  in  his  manner,  and  lias  a  disagreea 
ble  nasal  utterance.  But  the  matter  richly  compen 
sates  for  the  want  of  manner.  He  has  always  crowded 
houses,  and  silent,  eager  auditors.  WQ  have  heard 


HORACE  BUSHNELL,  P.  D.  279 

him  when  a  sigh  could  be  heard  throughout  the  house, 
so  enrapt  was  every  person  present,  with  his  calm, 
majestic  eloquence.  He  possesses  great  logical  acu 
men,  but  is  also  a  great  poet,  though  he  does  not 
write  rhymes.  We  could  quote  passages  from  some 
of  his  sermons  which,  in  magnificent  conception  and 
splendid  imagery,  are  surpassed  by  the  writings  of 
few  living  men,  be  they  poets  or  orators.  He  is  not 
declamatory,  is  not  passionate,  but  is  nevertheless  at 
times  exceedingly  powerful.  One  is  amazed  at  the 
profoundness  of  his  intellect,  and  at  the  impression 
which  he  makes  upon  the  hearer  with  it,  without  the 
usually  considered  necessary  oratorical  accompani 
ments. 

In  his  person,  Dr.  Bushnell  is  slim,  and  of  the  av 
erage  height.  His  features  appear  small  but  his  head 
is  of  large  size.  His  eyes  are  small  and  piercing,  his 
forehead  is  expansive,  his  hair  is  dark  gray,  and  he  is 
graceful  in  his  conversation  and  manners. 

Feeling  confident  that  whatever  judgment  the 
world  may  pronounce  upon  Dr.  Bushnell's  views  of 
the  trinity,  Christ  and  the  atonement,  it  will  in  due 
time  recognize  in  him,  not  only  a  powerful  intellect, 
but  a  great  Christian  reformer — the  advocate  of 
principles  which,  carried  out,  will  produce  a  nobler 
Christianity  than  that  which  has  characterized  many 
of  the  leaders  in  the  church — principles  which  will 
overthrow  injustice,  robbery  and  oppression,  because 


280  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

they  teach  that  the  practical  is  of  more  importance 
than  the  theoretical,  we  have  penned  this  feeble  por 
trait  of  him,  as  one  of  the  important  agitators  of 
the  time. 


WILLIAM  It.  SEWARD. 

WE  do  not  attempt  a  pen-portrait  of  Mr.  Seward 
because  he  is  a  man  of  splendid  intellect  and  acquire 
ments  ;  it  is  not  because  he  is  in  the  fullest  sense  of 
the  word  a  statesman ;  nor  yet  because  he  has  through 
out  the  whole  of  his  career  thus  far,  shown  himself 
to  be  possessed  of  humane  and  Christian  principles. 
"We  can  say  with  truth  that  he  is  one  of  the  first  agi 
tators  of  the  age.  It  may  be  without  design  upon  his 
part,  but  it  is  no  less  a  fact.  The  higher  law  agita 
tion  was  begotten  by  him.  For  he,  in  the  United 
States  senate,  opposed  the  enactment  of  the  abomina 
ble  fugitive  slave  law — God's  "  higher  law." 

Daniel  "Webster,  that  giant  intellect  which  held 
New  England  in  thrall  for  a  quarter  of  a  century,  is 
known  throughout  this  country,  and  perhaps  the 
world,  as  the  defender  of  the  constitution,  but  long 
after  Seward  the  advocate,  or  Seward  the  politician, 
shall  have  been  forgotten,  the  memory  of  Seward  the 
defender  of  the  higher  law  will  be  fresh  in  the  hearts 
of  a  nation  of  freemen.  That  was  a  sublime  scene, 
when  he,  surrounded  by  men  of  eminent  abilities,  but 


282  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

abilities  devoted  to  the  perpetration  of  injustice,  ven 
tured  almost  alone,  and  certainly  with  a  might v  ar 
ray  of  both  talent  and  power  against  him,  to  thunder 
in  the  ears  of  listening  senators  the  sentiment  that 
there  is  a  law  higher  than  any  they  could  make — 
higher  than  even  the  constitution  itself — the  law 
written  upon  the  hearts  of  men  by  the  finger  of 
God. 

The  agitation  which  this  simple,  gospel  truth  crea 
ted,  in  a  country  professedly  Christian,  is  truly  aston 
ishing,  and  we  think  it  astonished  no  one  more  than 
Mr.  Seward.  He  certainly  could  not  have  anticipated 
that  not  only  politicians,  but  the  professed  expound 
ers  of  God's  word,  would  join  the  chorus  against  him, 
and  against  one  of  the  profoundest  and  most  self-evi 
dent  truths  contained  in  holy  writ. 

William  II.  Seward  was  born  in  Florida,  N.  Y., 
May  16th,  1801,  and  is  consequently  nearly  fifty-four 
years  old.  His  ancestors  were  of  Welsh  extraction 
•upon  his  father's  side,  and  Irish  upon  the  side  of  his 
mother.  His  father  was  a  physician  in  the  state  of 
New  York,  of  good  character  and  respectable  abili 
ties,  while  his  mother  was  a  woman  of  clear  intellect 
and  warm  heart.  The  inhabitants  of  the  little  town 
of  Florida  were  principally  emigrants  from  Connect 
icut  and  other  New  England  states,  and  the  tone  of 
society  was  puritanic — using  the  word  in  its  noblest 
sense.  It  was  a  quiet  village,  and  the  influences 


WILLIA3I  II.  SEWARD.  283 

which  surrounded  the  boy  were  excellent.  He  was 
noted  for  a  studious  turn  of  mind,  a  precocious  de 
velopment  of  his  intellect,  and  a  frank  and  gentle 
disposition.  When  nine  years  old  he  was  sent  to 
school  at  an  academy  in  Goshen.  At  fifteen  years 
of  age  the  pale,  thin,  studious  lad  entered  Union  Col 
lege,  where  he  soon  distinguished  himself  by  his  se 
vere  studies,  his  brilliant  talents,  and  a  manly  and 
generous  character.  His  favorite  studies  were  rhet 
oric,  moral  philosophy,  and  the  ancient  classics.  He 
rose  at  four  in  the  morning  and  sat  up  late.  It  was 
in  college,  perhaps,  that  he  acquired  those  habits  of 
continuous  mental  toil  which  distinguish  him  now. 

He  graduated  with  distinguished  honors.  Among 
his  fellow-graduates  were  William  Kent,  Dr.  Hickok, 
and  Professor  Lewis.  Mr.  Seward  shortly  after  en 
tered  the  law-office  of  John  Anthon,  of  the  city  of  New 
York,  where  his  thorough  devotion  to  his  studies,  as 
before  while  in  college,  attracted  the  attention  of  his 
teachers.  He  completed  his  legal  studies  with  Judge 
Duer  and  Ogden  Hoffman,  in  Goshen,  and  was  ad 
mitted  to  the  bar  of  the  supreme  court  at  Utica,  in 
1822.  The  year  following  he  took  up  his  residence 
in  the  beautiful  village  of  Auburn,  which  contains 
his  "household  gods"  at  the  present  day.  He  be 
came  the  law  partner  of  Judge  Miller,  of  Auburn, 
and  in  182-i  married  his  youngest  daughter,  Frances 
Adeline  Miller.  The  fruits  of  this  union  were  five 


284:  MODKRN    AGITATORS. 

children,  one  of  whom  died  young ;  one  is  in  the 
United  States  army ;  another  follows  the  profession 
of  his  father,  while  the  remaining  two  are  quite 
young. 

Mr.  Seward's  personal  appearance  can  scarcely  be 
said  to  be  prepossessing.  At  least  we  never  knew  a 
person  who  had,  through  the  medium  of  the  journals, 
become  acquainted  with  his  master-pieces  of  elo 
quence,  afterward  see  him  without  an  expression 
.of  disappointment.  And  yet  there  are  many  noble 
points  in  his  personal  appearance.  He  is  scarcely 
average-sized,  is  modest  in  his  ways,  and  often  wears 
upon  his  face  a  sleepy  look,  which  gives  no  indication 
of  the  powerful  intellect  behind  that  dreamy  front. 
The  first  time  we  saw  him  he  was  at  home  among  the 
charming  scenery  of  Auburn,  and  beneath  the  roof 
of  a  mutual  friend.  His  face  struck  us  at  first  un 
pleasantly  ;  it  seemed  too  expressionless  for  so  great 
a  man ;  but  in  a  moment  the  dreamy  cloud  furled 
off,  and  the  eyes  grew  bright,  arid  we  felt  the  fasci 
nation  of  his  voice,  look,  manner,  and  brilliant  con 
versation —  a  fascination  which  thousands  of  others 
have  experienced  who  have  met  him  in  conversation, 
or  have  listened  to  his  speeches.  His  whole  appear 
ance  seemed  to  have  suddenly  changed.  The  com 
pact  brow  expressed  power,  the  eyes  genius,  the  lips 
force,  the  whole  body  grace  mingled  with  stateliness, 
unassuming  as  it  really  was.  An  air  of  pleasant 


WILLIAM   II.  SKWA.KD.  285 

frankness  pervaded  his  conversation  and  manners, 
and  the  listener  forgot  the  man,  his  achievements, 
and  position,  in  the  topic  of  conversation.  He  has 
no  affected  dignity,  but  is  simple  and  natural  in  all 
his  ways  and  habits.  There  are  distinguished  politi 
cians,  so-called  great  men,  in  this  country,  whose 
greatness  consists  principally  in  a  pompous  dignity 
of  manners  and  rhetoric.  The  chronic  dullness  of 
such  men  passes  with  the  multitude  for  profundity  of 
intellect.  We  hear  a  great  deal  of  the  look  of  latent 
power  which  such  men  wear,  and  indeed  if  they  pos 
sess  power  it  must  be  latent,  for  they  never  give  the 
world  any  evidence  of  their  godlike  proportions  of 
mind.  Mr.  Seward  has  not  achieved  the  brilliant 
position  which  he  occupies  by  any  such  method  ;  he 
has  earned  it  by  a  life  of  severe  labor,  and  the  fruits 
of  his  earnest  toil  remain  an  imperishable  monument 
to  his  memory. 

He  has  long  been  a  resident  of  Auburn — one  of  the 
most  beautiful  cities  in  the  state  of  ]^ew  York — and 
early  became  distinguished  in  his  profession.  His 
social  position  is  a  happy  one  ;  his  wealth  is  sufficient 
for  his  wants,  and  he  is  universally  beloved  by  his 
townsmen.  Though  wealthy,  his  habits  are  simple, 
and  he  is  as  much  the  friend  of  the  poor  man  when 
at  home,  as  of  the  wealthy  and  influential.  He  is 
not  merely  theoretical,  therefore,  in  his  professions 
of  democracy.  For  several  years  he  has  been  a  mem- 


280  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

bor  of  the  Episcopal  church,  at  Auburn,  and  lias  al 
ways  conducted  himself  like  a  Christian  gentleman. 

The  father  of  Mr.  Seward  was  a  Jeffersonian  dem 
ocrat,  and  the  son  accepted  the  politics  of  his  father  ; 
but  in  a  short  time  after  he  had  begun  the  practice 
of  law,  he  left  the  democratic  ranks  for  those  of  the 
great  opposing  party.  When  the  Missouri  compro 
mise  agitation  swept  over  the  country,  he  at  once 
sided,  instinctively,  with  the  friends  of  freedom,  and 
made  several  public  speeches  against  any  compro 
mise  with  slavery.  In  1830  he  was  elected  to  the 
state  senate  on  anti-masonic  grounds.  In  1833  he 
made  the  tour  of  Europe.  One  year  later  he  was 
nominated  for  governor  by  the  whig  party  of  his  na 
tive  state,  and  was  defeated.  In  1838  he  was  again 
nominated  to  that  office,  and  was  elected  by  ten 
thousand  majority.  When  his  term  of  office  expired 
he  was  reflected  by  a  handsome,  though  not  quite  so 
great,  a  majority.  While  occupying  the  executive 
chair  he  used  his  influence  for  the  repeal  of  all  state 
laws  which  in  any  manner  countenanced  the  institu 
tion  of  negro  slavery.  The  law  which  permitted  a 
southern  slave-owner  to  retain  possession  of  his  slave, 
while  traveling  through  the  state,  was  repealed.  A 
law  was  also  passed  which  allowed  a  fugitive  the 
benefit  of  a  jury  trial.  An  act  was  also  passed  pro 
hibiting  state  officers  from  assisting  in  the  recovery 
of  fugitives,  and  denying  the  use  of  the  jails  for  the 


WILLIAM  H.  SEWAfiD.  2S7 

confinement  of  fugitive  slaves  under  arrest.  After 
ward,  these  laws  were  very  unjustly  pronounced  un 
constitutional  by  the  United  States  supreme  court. 
Another  law  was  passed,  chiefly  through  his  influ 
ence,  for  the  recovery  of  kidnapped  colored  citizens 
of  New  York.  Under  the  operation  of  this  humane 
enactment,  Solomon  Northup,  who  for  twelve  years, 
had  been  forced  to  toil  upon  southern  soil,  was  res 
cued,  to  the  great  joy  of  his  family  and  friends.  The 
history  of  the  wrongs  perpetrated  upon  him  have 
since  been  published  in  a  book  form,  and  have  met 
with  an  extraordinary  sale.  To  crown  his  official 
acts,  just  before  retiring  from  office,  Mr.  Seward  re 
commended  the  abolition  of  that  law  which  demanded 
a  freehold  qualification  of  negro  voters.  He  saw  the 
bitter  injustice  of  the  law,  and  recommended  that  ne 
groes  be  admitted  to  the  exercise  of  the  same  rights 
accorded  to  white  men.  The  manly  courage  which 
he  displayed  in  this  recommendation  can  never  be 
forgotten,  so  long  as  humane  and  generous  hearts 
beat  upon  American  soil.  One  of  the  noblest  of  his 
official  acts,  however,  we  have  yet  to  relate.  The 
governor  of  Virginia  made  a  requisition  upon  him  for 
the  surrender  of  men  accused  of  assisting  certain 

e> 

slaves  to  escape  from  their  owners.  He  refused  to 
comply  with  the  demand,  upon  the  ground  that  the 
article  in  the  constitution  authorizing  a  demand  of 
fugitives  from  justice,  contemplated  only  crimos 


288  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

which  were  such  by  the  universal  laws  of  the  states, 
and  by  the  general  opinion  of  the  civilized  world. 
Aiding  a  slave  to  escape  from  oppression  was  an  act 
of  humanity,  and  as  the  laws  of  New  York  did  not 
acknowledge  it  to  be  a  crime,  he  did  not  feel  author 
ized  to  surrender  the  accused.  A  long  controversy 
was  the  result  of  this  righteous  decision,  and  retalia 
tory  measures  were  tried  by  Virginia,  but  Governor 
Seward  remained  firm  to  the  end. 

In  1847,  Mr.  Seward  defended  John  Van  Zandt, 
who  was  accused  of  aiding  the  escape  of  slaves  from 
their  master,  at  the  bar  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the 
United  States.  His  argument  made  on  that  occasion, 
is  one  of  the  most  eloquent  ever  delivered  at  Wash 
ington.  He  would  accept  no  compensation  for  his 
services.  Still  later,  in  the  famous  Yan  Nest  murder 
case,  Mr.  Seward  proved  the  depth  of  his  philanthropy 
and  the  loftiness  of  his  courage. 

While  riding  once  upon  the  banks  of  the  beautiful 
Owasco  Lake,  the  friend  who  was  with  us  pointed 
out  a  pleasant  farm-house  as  the  scene  a  few  years 
ago  of  a  terrible  murder,  and  not  far  distant  in  a 
lonely  churchyard,  we  saw  the  graves  of  the  victims. 
A  negro  by  the  name  of  William  Freeman,  at  the 
age  of  sixteen,  was  sent  to  the  state  prison  for  five 
years  for  alleged  horse  stealing.  He  declared  his 
innocence  of  the  charge,  and  it  has  since  been  admit 
ted  by  those  who  tried  him,  that  he  was  undoubtedly 


WILLIAM  H.  SEWAKD.  289 

innocent  of  the  crime  ;  but  through  the  perjury  of 
the  real  thief  he  was  sent  to  prison.  The  injustice  of 
his  punishment,  coupled  with  barbarous  treatment 
while  confined  in  prison,  resulted  in  an  insanity  which 
bordered  upon  idiocy,  and  when  at  last  his  term  ex 
pired,  he  went  forth  into  the  world  demented,  with 
only  this  one  idea  in  his  brain — that  the  world  had 
deeply  wronged  him.  One  night,  without  any  prov 
ocation,  this  lunatic  negro  entered  the  house  of  a  Mr. 
Van  Xest,  and  murdered  him,  his  wife,  a  child,  and 
the  mother  of  Mr.  Van  Nest,  a  woman  of  seventy. 
He  was  arrested  the  next  day,  and  such  was  the  ter 
rible  indignation  of  the  people  of  Auburn,  that  it  was 
with  great  difficulty  that  they  were  prevented  from 
hanging  him  upon  the  spot.  Freeman,  like  an  idiot, 
as  he  was,  confessed,  and  laughed  at  the  murder.  This 
only  the  more  enraged  the  populace.  They  clamored 
for  his  blood.  Mr.  Seward  had  acquired  a  great  rep 
utation  for  defending  successfully  accused  criminals, 
and  it  at  once  was  feared  that  he  would  be  employed 
in  the  defense  of  the  crazy  negro.  Such  was  the  ex 
citement  against  him — he  was  absent  at  the  south — 
that  his  law  partners  were  obliged  publicly  to  prom 
ise  that  he  would  not  defend  the  accused.  Upon 
his  return,  his  family  expected  the  populace  would 
outrage  his  person.  He  saw  the  feeling  was  intense 
upon  the  subject — that  it  was  predetermined  that  the 
negro  should  be  hung.  He  made  the  necessary  ex- 
M  19 


i390  MiWKHN    AGITATO]^. 

aminations,  and  became  thoroughly  convinced  thut 
Freeman  was  insane  when  he  committed  the  awful 
deed,  but  hoping  that  other  counsel  would  appear 
for  the  wretched  man,  he  did  not  offer  his  services. 
The  day  of  trial  came,  and  the  people  boasted  that 
no  lawyer  dared  to  defend  the  murderer.  The  dis 
trict  attorney  read  the  indictment  against  the  man, 
and  asked  if  he  plead  guilty  or  not  guilty.  His  only 
reply  was  "  ha ! "  He  was  asked  if  he  was  ready 
for  trial ;  he  "  did'nt  know  " — if  he  had  counsel ;  he 
"  didn't  know."  The  poor  idiot  had  no  conception 
of  what  was  transpiring.  His  life  was  being  taken 
from  him,  and  he  knew  it  not.  Mr.  Seward  was  pres 
ent,  and  the  sight  of  the  poor,  friendless,  hated,  idiot 
negro,  so  wrought  upon  his  heart,  that  he  burst  into 
tears,  but  shortly  recovering  his  calmness  he  arose 
and  said,  "May  it  please  the  Court:  I  shall  remain 
counsel  for  the  prisoner  until  his  death"  And  for  two 
weeks,  amid  the  most  depleting  weather,  did  he, 
without  any  compensation,  give  himself  up  body  and 
soul  for  the  defense  of  the  poor  negro.  He  was  in 
sulted  by  his  townsmen,  he  became  instantly  unpop 
ular — he  who  a  few  days  before  was  the  pride  of  Au 
burn  ;  yet  he  flinched  not  a  hair  from  his  duty,  but 
worked  on  bravely  and  nobly  to  the  end.  The  well 
known  John  Yan  Buren  was  the  opposing  counsel, 
and  with  the  predetermination  of  the  jury,  it  was  not 
difficult  for  him  to  win  a  verdict.  In  Mr.  Seward'a 


WILLIAM  H.  SEWARD.  291 

argument,  which  will  ever  be  one  of  the  brightest  of 
his  laurels,  both  as  an  advocate  and  a  philanthropist, 
he,  in  allusion  to  the  fact  that  he  had  lost  his  popular 
ity  in  Auburn,  and  indeed  throughout  the  state,  for 
his  defense  of  Freeman,  said  most  eloquently : 

"  In  due  time,  gentlemen  of  the  Jury,  when  I  shall  have 
paid  the  debt  of  nature,  my  remains  will  rest  here  in  your 
midst,  with  those  of  my  kindred  and  neighbors.  It  is  very 
possible  they  may  be  unhonored,  neglected,  spurned !  But 
perhaps  years  hence,  when  the  passion  and  excitement  which 
now  agitate  this  community  shall  have  passed  away — some 
wandering  stranger — some  lone  exile — some  Indian,  some  Ne 
gro  may  erect  over  them  an  humble  stone,  and  thereon  this  ep 
itaph,  '  HE  WAS  FAITHFUL.' 

Freeman  was  convicted  of  murder,  but  an  appel 
late  court  granted  a  new  trial.  But  before  it  came 
on  the  prisoner  died.  A  post  mortem  examination 
was  made  by  the  most  distinguished  physicians  in  the 
state,  who  reported  that  the  brain  of  the  negro  was  one 
mass  of  disease,  and  indeed  nearly  destroyed.  Thus  it 
was  proved  incontestibly,  that  Mr.  Seward  had  from 
the  beginning  been  right,  and  that  he  was  entitled 
to  the  warmest  thanks  of  all  humane  men  for  the 
courageous  and  noble  course  which  he  had  pursued. 
The  people  of  Auburn  restored  him  to  his  former 
place  in  their  affections,  and  he  was,  if  possible, 
more  popular  throughout  the  state,  than  he  was  be- 


292  MODERN    AGITATOKS. 

fore  the  trial.  He  had  proved  that  he  was  not  a 
demagogue,  for  he  had  given  up  reputation,  friends, 
everything,  to  save  a  despised  negro.  In  his  argu 
ment  lie  fearlessly  rebuked  the  inhuman  spirit  of 
caste  which  shuts  out  the  free  black  man  from  the 
sympathies  of  white  people,  though  conscious  that  the 
expression  of  such  sentiments  must  identify  him  with 
that  unpopular  class  of  men  called  "  abolitionists." 

As  a  writer,  Mr.  Seward  occupies  a  high  position. 
He  writes  clearly,  comprehensively,  and  convincingly. 
If  he  does  not  ornament  his  style  luxuriantly,  it  is  the 
more  impressive  from  its  simplicity.  It  has  direct 
ness  arid  force,  and  his  diction  is  always  copious.  Fit 
language  is  always  at  his  command.  He  exhausts  a 
subject.  He  does  not  indeed  like  some  dissect  in 
its  every  part — he  disdains  generally  to  employ  much 
of  his  time  over  mere  trifles — but  he  passes  over  a 
subject  as  an  eagle  flies  over  a  province,  not  stopping 
to  alight  at  every  rocky  height,  not  peering  in  at  ev 
ery  farm-house  window,  but  sailing  majestically  over 
all,  mewing  everything^  scanning  keenly  river  and 
height,  village  and  city,  the  sheep  browsing  in  the 
quiet  pasture — the  gathering  tempest  far  away  in  the 
horizon. 

Mr.  Seward  has  paid,  we  believe,  comparatively 
little  attention  to  merely  polite  literature.  That  is, 
his  earnest  attention  has  been  directed  to  politics  and 
statesmanship.  Yet  in  the  volume  of  his  life  (pub- 


WILLIAM  II.  SEWAHD.  293 

lished  by  Redfield)  and  in  other  places  may  be  found 
brilliant  proofs  of  his  abilities  as  an  author.  His  de 
scription  of  his  European  travels  are  exceedingly  well 
written.  We  will  give  a  specimen  of  his  style,  by 
extracting  two  short  pieces  of  his — one  upon  the 
death  of  Adams,  the  other  upon  the  death  of  Napo 
leon.  The  contrast  is  finely  drawn. 

DEATH  OF  J.  Q.  ADAMS. 

The  thirtieth  congress  assembled  in  this  conjuncture,  and 
the  debates  are  solemn,  earnest,  and  bewildering.  Steam  and 
lightning,  which  have  become  docile  messengers,  make  the 
American  people  listeners  to  this  high  debate,  and  anxiety  and 
interest,  intense  and  universal,  absorb  them  all.  Suddenly 
the  council  is  dissolved.  Silence  is  in  the  capitol,  and  sorrow 
has  thrown  its  pall  over  the  land.  What  new  event  is  this  ? 
Has  some  Cromwell  closed  the  legislative  chambers?  or  has 
some  Gesar,  returning  from  his  distant  conquests,  passed  the 
Rubicon,  seized  the  purple,  and  fallen  in  the  senate,  beneath 
the  swords  of  self-appointed  executioners  of  his  country's  ven 
geance  1  No !  Nothing  of  all  this.  What  means,  then,  this 
abrupt  and  fearful  silence  ?  What  unlooked-for  calamity  has 
quelled  the  debates  of  the  senate,  and  calmed  the  excitement 
of  the  people  ?  An  old  man.  whose  tongue  once  indeed  was 
eloquent,  but  now  through  age  had  well  nigh  lost  its  cunning, 
has  fallen  into  the  swoon  of  death.  He  was  not  an  actor  in 
the  drama  of  conquest — nor  had  his  feeble  voice  yet  miiiglod 
in  the  lofty  argument — 


294  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

'A  gray-haired  sire,  whose  eye  intent, 
Was  on  the  visioned  future  bent.' 

In  the  very  act  of  rising  to  debate,  he  fell  into  the  arms  of 
conscript  fathers  of  the  republic.  A  long  lethargy  supervened 
and  oppressed  his  senses.  Nature  rallied  the  wasting  powers, 
on  the  very  verge  of  the  grave,  for  a  very  brief  space.  The 
rekindled  eye  showed  that  the  re-collected  mind  was  clear,  calm 
and  vigorous.  His  weeping  family  and  his  sorrowing  compeers 
were  there.  He  surveyed  the  scene,  and  knew  at  once  its  fa 
tal  import.  He  had  left  no  duty  unperformed;  he  had  no  wish 
unsatisfied,  no  ambition  unattained  ;  no  regret,  no  sorrow,  no 
fear,  no  remorse.  He  could  not  shake  off  the  dews  of  death 
that  gathered  on  his  brow.  He  could  not  pierce  the  thick 
shades  that  rose  up  before  him.  But  he  knew  that  eternity 
lay  close  by  the  shores  of  time.  He  knew  that  his  Redeemer 
lived.  Eloquence,  even  in  that  hour,  inspired  him  with  his  an 
cient  sublimity  of  utterance.  "Tins,"  said  the  dying  man, 
"  THIS  is  THE  END  OF  EARTH."  He  paused  for  moment,  and 
then  added,  "I  AM  CONTENT."  Angels  might  well  draw  aside 
the  curtain  of  the  skies  to  look  down  on  such  a  scene — a  scene 
that  approximated  even  to  that  scene  of  unapproachable  sub 
limity,  not  to  be  recalled  without  reverence,  when  in  mortal 
agony,  ONE  who  spake  as  never  man  spake,  said,  "Ii  IB 


DEATH  OF  NAPOLEON. 

He  was  an  emperor.  But  he  saw  around  him  a  mother, 
brothers  and  sisters,  not  ennobled  ;  whose  humble  state  re 
minded  him  and  the  world,  that  he  was  born  a  plebeian  ;  and 


WILLTAil  II.   SEWARD.  295 

he  had  no  heir  to  wait  for  the  imperial  crown.  He  scourged 
the  earth  again,  and  again  fortune  smiled  on  him  even  in 
his  wild  extravagance.  He  bestowed  kingdoms  and  princi 
palities  upon  his  kindred — put  away  the  devoted  wife  of  his 
youthful  days,  and  another,  a  daughter  of  Hapsburgh's  impe 
rial  house,  joyfully  accepted  his  proud  alliance.  Offspring  glad 
dened  his  anxious  sight ;  a  diadem  was  placed  on  its  infant 
brow,  and  it  received  the  homage  of  princes  even  in  its  cradle. 
Now  he  was  indeed  a  monarch — a  legitimate  monarch — a  mon 
arch  by  divine  appointment — the  first  of  an  endless  succession 
of  monarchs.  But  there  were  other  monarchs  who  held  sway 
in  the  earth.  He  was  not  content ;  he  would  reign  with  his 
kindred  alone.  He  gathered  new  and  greater  armies  from  his 
own  land — from  subjugated  lands.  He  called  forth  the  young 
and  brave — one  from  every  household — from  the  Pyrenees  to 
the  Zuyder-Zee — from  Jura  to  the  ocean.  He  marshaled 
them  into  long  and  majestic  columns,  and  went  forth  to  seize 
that  universal  dominion,  which  seemed  almost  within  his  grasp. 
But  ambition  had  tempted  fortune  too  far.  The  nations  of  the 
earth  resisted,  repelled,  subdued,  surrounded  him.  The  pageant 
was  ended.  The  crown  fell  from  his  presumptuous  head.  The 
wife  who  had  wedded  him  in  his  pride,  forsook  him  when  the 
hour  of  fear  came  upon  him.  His  child  was  ravished  from  his 
sight.  His  kinsmen  were  degraded  to  their  first  estate,  and  he 
was  no  longer  emperor,  nor  consul,  nor  general,  nor  even  a  cit 
izen,  but  an  exile  and  a  prisoner  on  a  lonely  island,  in  the  midst 
of  the  wild  Atlantic.  Discontent  attended  him  here.  The 
wayward  man  fretted  out  few  long  years  of  his  yet  unbroken 
manhood,  looking  off  at  the  earliest  dawn  and  in  the  evening's 


296 


MODERN    AGITATOKS. 


latest  twilight,  toward  that  distant  world  that  had  only  just  elu 
ded  his  grasp.  His  heart  corroded.  Death  came,  not  unlocked 
for,  though  it  came  even  then  unwelcome.  He  was  stretched 
on  his  bed  within  the  fort  which  constituted  his  prison.  A  few 
fast  and  faithful  friends  stood  around,  with  the  guards  who  re 
joiced  that  the  hour  of  relief  from  long  and  wearisome  watch 
ing  was  at  hand.  As  his  strength  wasted  away,  delirium 
stirred  up  the  brain  from  its  long  arid  inglorious  inactivity. 
The  pageant  of  ambition  returned.  He  was  again  a  lieuten 
ant,  a  general,  a  consul,  an  emperor  of  France.  He  filled  again 
the  throne  of  Charlemagne.  His  kindred  pressed  around  him, 
again  invested  with  the  pompous  pageantry  of  royalty.  The 
daughter  of  the  long  line  of  kings  again  stood  proudly  by  his 
side,  and  the  sunny  face  of  his  child  shone  out  from  beneath 
the  diadem  that  encircled  its  flowing  locks.  The  marshals  of 
Europe  awaited  his  commands.  The  legions  of  the  old  guard 
were  in  the  field,  their  scarred  faces  rejuvenated,  and  their 
ranks,  thinned  in  many  battles,  replenished.  Russia,  Prussia, 
Denmark,  and  England,  gathered  their  mighty  hosts  to  give 
him  battle.  Once  more  he  mounted  his  impatient  charger, 
and  rushed  forth  to  conquest.  He  waved  his  sword  aloft  and 
cried,  "TETE  DE'ARME  !  "  The  feverish  vision  broke — the  mock 
ery  was  ended.  The  silver  cord  was  loosened,  and  the  war 
rior  fell  back  upon  his  bed  a  lifeless  corpse.  THIS  WAS  THE 

END  OF  EARTH.   TlIE  CoRSICAN  WAS  NOT  CONTENT. 

As  a  political  writer,  Mr.  Seward  ranks  high.  As 
an  orator,  he  will  by  no  means  compare  with  such 
men  as  Phillips.  Soule,  and  other  of  the  most  brilliant 


WILLIAM  H.  SEWARD.  297 

of  our  native  orators.  We  mean,  of  course,  in  the 
mere  graces  of  oratory.  In  lofty  eloquence  he  has  few 
equals  among  the  great  men  of  America,  if  he  has 
any ;  but  his  manner  of  speaking  is  too  dry  and 
passive. 

"  His  rapid  idealization,  his  oriental  affluence, 
though  not  vagueness,  of  expression,  and  the  Cicero 
nian  flow  of  his  language,  proceeding  not  '  from  the 
heat  of  youth,  or  the  vapors  of  wine,'  but  from  the 
exceedingly  fertility  of  his  imagination,  combine  to 
render  him  an  interesting  speaker.  Yet  his  enuncia 
tion  is  neither  clear  nor  distinct,  and  the  tones  of  his 
voice  often  grate  harshly  upon  the  ear.  He  is  not 
devoid  of  grace,  however ;  he  is  calm  and  dignified, 
but  earnest. 

"  His  style  is  elegant,  rather  than  neat ;  elaborate, 
rather  than  finished.  It  possesses  a  sparkling  viva 
city,  but  is  somewhat  deficient  in  energetic  brevity. 
It  is  not  always  easy,  for  there  is  more  labor  than  art ; 
but  if  the  wine  has  an  agreeable  bouquet,  the  con 
noisseur  delights  to  have  it  linger.  Like  young 
D'Israeli,  whose  political  position  in  some  respects 
resembles  his  own,  he  has  occasionally  a  tendency  to 
verbose  declamation,  a  natural  predilection,  perhaps, 
for  Milesian  floridness  and  hyperbole,  and,  like  Na 
poleon,  a  love  for  gorgeous  paradoxes.  But,  in  gen 
eral,  his  words  are  well  chosen,  and  are  frequently 
more  eloquent  than  the  ideas.  His  sentences  are  con- 
M* 


298  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

structed  with  taste  ;  they  have  often  the  brilliancy  of 
Mirabeau,  and  the  glowing  fervor  of  Fox." 

We  must  finally  speak  of  Mr.  Seward  as  a  states 
man.  He  is  thought  by  many  to  be  the  first  of  living 
American  statesmen.  We  are  not  disposed  either  to 
admit  or  deny  this.  He  is  certainly  among  the  very 
first  not  only  in  America,  but  the  world.  He  has  the 
breadth,  the  calmness,  the  comprehensiveness  of  a 
great  statesman.  He  is  not  inclined  to  radicalism. 
He  is  naturally,  we  think,  a  conservative.  He  does 
not  strike  out  boldly  into  new  paths.  He  clings  to 
old  truths,  wages  warfare  against  those  who  would 
forget  the  ancient  faith.  He  never  flies  before  an  en 
emy  however  powerful.  He  holds  to  his  principles 
on  all  occasions.  Whatever  he  has  been  he  is  to-day, 
but  he  is  slow  to  see  the  practicability  of  a  new  sys 
tem  of  tactics.  He  has  never  in  the  senate,  however 
strong  the  temptation,  spoken  a  word  against  his  old 
anti-slavery  principles.  Yet  when  thousands  of  his 
whig  friends  saw  the  necessity  of  sinking  mere  whig 
issues,  and  joining  in  a  great  and  new  party  of  free 
dom,  Mr.  Seward  clung  to  the  dead  garments  of  the 
ancient  organization,  and  ran  imminent  risk  of  terri 
ble  ruin.  Was  this  an  indication  of  foresight  ?  of  po 
litical  sagacity  ?  We  think  not. 

Mr.  Seward  opposed  the  Mexican  war,  eloquently 
tind  earnestly — and  when  it  was  declared,  wished  it 
prosecuted  vigorously.  If  this  was  wise  statesman- 


WILLIAM   II.  SKW.«.r.I>. 


299 


ship,  it  was  not  good  morality.  If  it  was  a  wicked 
war,  it  should  not  have  been  declared,  nor  carried  on 
after  declared. 

In  1849  Mr.  Seward  was  chosen  to  represent  the 
state  of  New  York  in  the  United  States  senate.  In 
the  great  compromise  struggle,  Mr.  Seward  remained 
true  to  freedom  and  the  north,  when  so  many  great 
men  proved  traitors.  Ilis  conduct  through  that  terri 
ble  struggle  will,  in  the  pages  of  history  be  described, 
that  unborn  generations  may  admire.  One  of  his  no 
blest  speeches  in  the  senate  upon  this  question,  was 
delivered  March  11, 1850.  He  said  : 

"  But  it  is  insisted  that  the  admission  of  California  shall  be 
attended  by  a  compromise  of  questions  which  have  arisen  out 
of  slavery  ! 

"  I  am  opposed  to  any  such  compromise  in  any  and  all  the 
forms  in  which  it  has  been  proposed.  Because,  while  admitting 
the  purity  and  the  patriotism  of  all  from  whom  it  is  my  mis 
fortune  to  differ,  I  think  all  legislative  compromises  radically 
wrong,  and  essentially  vicious.  They  involve  the  surrender  of 
the  exercise  of  judgment  and  the  conscience  on  distinct  and  sep 
arate  questions,  af  distinct  and  separate  times,  with  the  indis 
pensable  advantages  it  affords  for  ascertaining  the  truth.  They 
involve  a  relinquishment  of  the  right  to  reconsider  in  future  the 
decision  of  the  present,  on  questions  prematurely  anticipated. 
And  they  are  a  usurpation  as  to  future  questions  of  the  prov 
ince  of  future  legislators. 

"  Sir,  it  seems  to   me  as  if  slavery  had  laid  its  paralyzing 


.300  MODERN    AGITATOKS. 

hand  upon  myself,  and  the  blood  were  coursing  less  freely  than 
its  wont  through  my  veins,  when  I  endeavor  to  suppose  that 
such  a  compromise  has  been  effected,  and  my  utterance  forever 
is  arrested  upon  all  the  great  questions,  social,  moral,  and  po 
litical,  arising  out  of  a  subject  so  important,  and  yet  so  incom 
prehensible.  What  am  I  receive  in  this  compromise  ?  Free 
dom  in  California.  It  is  well ;  it  is  a  noble  acquisition ;  it  is 
worth  a  sacrifice.  But  what  am  I  to  give  as  an  equivalent  1 
A  recognition  of  a  claim  to  perpetuate  slavery  in  the  District 
of  Columbia;  forbearance  towards  more  stringent  laws  con 
cerning  the  arrest  of  persons  suspected  of  being  slaves  found 
in  the  free  states  ;  forbearance  from  the  proviso  of  freedom  in 
the  charters  of  new  territories.  None  of  the  plans  of  com 
promise  offered  demand  less  than  two,  and  most  of  them  insist 
on  all  these  conditions.  The  equivalent  then  is,  some  portion 
of  liberty,  some  portion  of  human  rights  in  one  region  for  lib 
erty  in  another." 

In  this  speech  occurred  Mr.  Seward's  famous  enun 
ciation  of  the  HIGHER  LAW  doctrine.  We  will  give 
the  extract : 

"  It  is  true  indeed  that  the  national  domain  is  ours.  It  is 
true  it  was  acquired  by  the  valor  and  with  the  wealth  of  the 
whole  nation.  But  we  hold,  nevertheless,  no  arbitrary  power 
over  it.  We  hold  no  arbitrary  power  over  anything,  whether 
acquired  by  law  or  seized  by  usurpation.  The  constitution 
regulates  our  stewardship ;  the  constitution  devotes  the  domain 
to  union,  to  justice,  to  defense,  to  welfare  and  to  liberty.  BUT 
THERE  is  A  HIGHER  LAW  THAN  THE  CONSTITUTION,  WHICH 


WILLIAM  n.  SEAVAKD.  "01 

REGULATES  OUR  AUTHORITY  OVER  THE  DOMAIN,  AND  DEVOTES  IT 

TO  THE  SAME  NOBLE  PURPOSES.  The  territory  is  a  part,  no  in 
considerable  part,  of  the  common  heritage  of  mankind,  be- 
stowed  upon  them  by  the  Creator  of  the  universe.  We  are 
his  stewards,  and  must  so  discharge  our  trust,  as  to  secure  in 
the  highest  attainable  degree  their  happiness.  This  is  a  state, 
and  we  are  deliberating  for  it,  just  as  our  fathers  deliberated  in 
establishing  the  institutions  we  enjoy.  Whatever  superiority 
there  is  in  our  condition  and  hopes  over  those  of  any  other 
*  kingdom'  or '  estate,'  is  due  to  the  fortunate  circumstance  that 
our  ancestors  did  not  leave  things  to  '  take  their  chance,'  but 
that  they  '  added  amplitude  and  greatness '  to  our  common 
wealth  '  by  introducing  such  ordinances,  constitutions,  and  cus 
toms  as  were  wise.'  We  in  our  turn  have  succeeded  to  the 
same  responsibilities,  and  we  cannot  approach  the  duty  before 
us  wisely  or  justly,  except  we  raise  ourselves  to  the  great  con 
sideration  of  how  we  can  most  certainly  '  sow  greatness  to  our 
posterity  and  successors.' 

"  And  now  the  simple,  bold,  and  even  awful  question  which 
presents  itself  to  us  is  this  :  Shall  we,  who  are  founding  insti 
tutions,  social  and  political,  for  countless  millions ;  shall  we, 
who  know  by  experience  the  wise  and  the  just,  and  are  free  to 
choose  them,  and  to  reject  the  erroneous  and  unjust ;  shall  we 
establish  human  bondage,  or  permit  it  by  our  sufferance  to  be 
established?  Sir,  our  forefathers  would  not  have  hesitated  an 
hour.  They  found  slavery  existing  here,  and  they  left  it  only 
because  they  could  not  remove  it.  There  is  not  only  no  free 
state  which  would  now  establish  it,  but  there  is  no  slave  state 
which,  if  it  had  had  the  free  alternative,  as  we  now  have,  would 


302  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

have  founded  slavery.  Indeed,  our  revolutionary  predecessors 
had  precisely  the  same  que-tion  before  them  in  establishing  an 
organic  law,  under  which  the  states  of  Ohio,  Michigan.  Illinois, 
Wisconsin,  and  Io\va  have  since  come  into  the  Union,  and  they 
solemnly  repudiated  and  excluded  slavery  from  those  states 
forever." 

In  a  speech  made  in  the  senate,  July  2,  1850,  oc 
curs  the  following  eloquent  passage  : 

"  Still  it  is  replied  that  the  slavery  question  must  be  settled. 
That  question  cannot  be  settled  by  this  bill.  Slavery  and  free 
dom  are  conflicting  systems,  brought  together  by  the  union  of 
the  states,  not  neutralized,  nor  even  harmonized.  Their  antag 
onism  is  radical,  and  therefore  perpetual.  Compromise  con 
tinues  conflict,  and  the  conflict  involves  unavoidably  all  ques 
tions  of  national  interest — questions  of  revenue,  of  internal  im 
provement,  of  industry,  of  commerce,  of  political  rivalry,  and 
even  all  questions  of  peace  and  of  war.  In  entering  the  career 
of  conquest  you  have  kindled  to  a  fierce  heat  the  fires  you  seek 
to  extinguish,  because  you  have  thrown  into  them  the  fuel  of 
propagandism.  We  have  the  propagandism  of  slavery  to  en 
large  the  slave  market,  and  to  increase  slave  representation  In 
congress,  and  in  the  electoral  colleges — for  the  bramble  ever 
seeks  power,  though  the  olive,  the  fig,  and  the  vine,  refuse  it ; 
and  we  have  the  propagandism  of  freedom  to  counteract  those 
purposes.  Nor  can  this  propagandism  be  arrested  on  either 
side.  The  sea  is  full  of  exiles,  and  they  swarm  over  our  land. 
Emigration  from  Europe  and  from  Asia,  from  Polynesia  even, 
from  the  free  states,  and  from  the  slave  states,  goes  on,  and 


\VILLIAM  H.  SEWARD.  COS 

Will  SO  On,  IK  OBEDIENCE  TO  LAWS  WHICH  I  SHOULD  SAY  \TEK3 
HIGHER  THAN  THE  CONSTITUTION.  IF  ANY  6CCH  LAWS  WERE  AC 
KNOWLEDGED  HERE.  And  I  may  be  allowed  here  to  refer 
those  who  have  been  scandalized  by  the  allusion  to  such  laws 
to  a  single  passage  by  an  author  whose  opinions  did  not  err 
on  the  side  of  superstition  or  of  tyranny  :  '  If  it  be  said  that 
every  nation  ought  in  this  to  follow  their  own  constitutions, 
we  are  at  an  end  of  our  controversies  ;  for  they  ought  not  to 
be  followed  unless  they  are  rightly  made ;  they  cannot  be 
rightly  made  if  they  are  contrary  to  the  universal  law  of  God 
and  nature.'  (Discourses  on  Government,  by  Algernon  Syd 
ney,  chap.  1,  p.  48.)  I  spoke  of  emigrants;  and  wherever 
those  emigrants  go — whether  they  go  from  necessity  or  of 
choice — they  form  continuous,  unbroken,  streaming  processions 
of  colonists,  founders  of  states,  builders  of  nations.  And  when 
colonies  are  planted,  states  are  founded,  or  nations  built,  labor 
is  there  the  first  and  indispensable  element,  and  it  begins  and 
prosecutes  to  the  end  its  strife  for  freedom  and  power.  While 
the  sovereignty  of  the  territories  remains  here,  the  strife  will 
come  up  here  to  be  composed.  You  may  slay  the  Wilniot 
proviso  hi  the  senate-chamber,  and  bury  it  beneath  the  capitol 
to-day  ;  the  dead  corse,  in  complete  steel,  will  haunt  your  le 
gislative  halls  to-morrow.  When  the  strife  is  ended  in  the  ter 
ritories  you  now  possess,  it  will  be  renewed  on  new  fields, 
north  as  well  as  south,  to  fortify  advantages  gained,  or  to  re 
trieve  losses  incurred,  for  both  of  the  parties  well  know  that 
there  is  '  Yet  in  that  word  Hereafter.' 

u  Senators  have  referred  us  to  the  promise  of  peace  heralded 
in  the  Missouri  compromise.     Sir,  that  prophecy  is  but  half 


30'i  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

its  journey  yet.  The  annexation  of  Texas,  the  invasion  of 
Mexico,  this  prolonged  struggle  over  California,  this  desperate 
contest  for  the  sands  and  snows  of  New  Mexico  and  Deseret, 
are  all  within  the  scope  and  limits  of  the  prediction  ;  and  so 
are  the  strifes  yet  to  come  over  ice-bound  regions  beyond  the 
St.  Lawrence  and  sun-burnt  plains  beneath  the  tropics. 

"  But  while  this  compromise  will  fail  of  all  its  purposes,  it 
will  work  out  serious  and  lasting  evils.  All  such  compromises 
are  changes  of  the  constitution  made  in  derogation  of  the  con 
stitution.  They  render  it  uncertain  in  its  meaning,  and  impair 
its  vigor  as  well  as  its  sanctions.  This  compromise  finds  the 
senate  in  wide  divergence  from  the  house  of  representatives  by 
reason  of  the  undue  multiplication  of  feeble,  consumptive  states, 
effected  by  former  compromises  of  the  same  sort.  *  *  * 

"  Sir,  the  agitations  which  alarm  us  are  not  signs  of  evils  to 
come,  but  mild  efforts  of  the  commonwealth  for  relief  from 
mischiefs  past. 

"  There  is  a  way,  and  one  way  only,  to  put  them  at  rest. 
Let  us  go  back  to  the  ground  where  our  forefathers  stood. 
While  we  leave  slavery  to  the  care  of  the  states  where  it  ex 
ists,  let  us  inflexibly  direct  the  policy  of  the  federal  govern 
ment  to  circumscribe  its  limits  and  favor  its  ultimate  extin 
guishment.  Let  those  who  have  this  misfortune  entailed  upon 
them  instead  of  contriving  how  to  maintain  an  equilibrium 
that  never  had  existence,  consider  carefully  how,  at  some 
time — it  may  be  ten,  or  twenty,  or  even  fifty  years  hence 
— by  some  means,  by  means  all  their  own,  and  without  our 
aid,  without  sudden  change  or  violent  action,  they  may  bring 
about  the  emancipation  of  labor,  and  its  restoration  to  its  just 


WILLIAM  H.  SEWAKD.  305 

dignity  and  power  in  the  state.  Let  them  take  hope  to  them- 
selves,  give  hope  to  the  free  states,  awaken  hope  throughout 
the  world.  They  will  thus  anticipate  only  what  must  happen 
at  some  time,  and  what  they  themselves  must  desire,  if  it  can 
come  safely,  and  as  soon  as  it  can  come  without  danger.  Let 
them  do  only  this,  and  every  cause  of  disagreement  will  cease 
immediately  and  forever.  We  shall  then  not  merely  endure 
each  other,  but  we  shall  be  reconciled  together  and  shall  real 
ize  once  more  the  concord  which  results  from  mutual  league, 
united  councils,  and  equal  hopes  and  hazards  in  the  most  sub 
lime  and  beneficent  enterprise  the  earth  has  witnessed.  The 
fingers  of  the  powers  above  would  tune  the  harmony  of  such 
a  peace." 

As  a  senator,  Mr.  Seward's  uniform  urbanity,  his 
self-possession  and  tact  as  a  debater — the  many  able, 
clear,  and  elaborate  arguments,  which  he  has  made 
upon  great  public  questions,  have  deepened  to  enthu 
siasm  the  attachment  of  his  friends,  and  correspond 
ingly  excited  the  opposition  and  the  fears  of  his  po 
litical  foes.  On  a  recent  occasion — February  6, 1855 
— on  the  question  of  his  reelection  to  the  United 
States  senate,  this  feeling  was  especially  manifest ; 
but  his  election,  on  that  occasion,  by  a  large  major 
ity,  is  at  once  a  flattering  endorsement  of  his  course 
in  the  national  councils,  and  an  evidence  of  the  deep 
and  ardent  devotion  of  his  political  friends. 

It  is  perhaps  useless  to  speculate  upon  the  future  ; 
but  we  sometimes  imagine  that  Mr.  Seward  will  yet 

20 


306  MODERN    AGITATOKS. 

take  a  postion  before  the  American  people  immeas 
urably  superior  to  any  which  he  has  yet  filled.  The 
spirit  of  slavery  is  aggressive.  Each  day  is  a  witness 
to  its  hungry  cry  for  blood,  and  each  day  is  witness 
to  its  triumphs.  So  far,  the  north  has  succumbed, 
not  without  ado,  but  she  has  invariably  in  the  end 
succumbed.  But  it  will  not  be  so  always.  A  pro 
found  reaction  will  by-and-by  take  place  —  perhaps 
next  year,  perhaps  ten  years  hence — but  it  will  surely 
come,  and  a  great  man  will  be  needed  for  such  a  cri 
sis.  No  compromiser,  but  a  statesman  of  the  first 
order  ;  calm,  generous,  but  sternly  resolved  upon  the 
divorce  of  the  federal  government  from  all  connec 
tion  with  negro  slavery.  We  cannot  tell  if  Mr.  Sew- 
ard  is  great  enough  for  such  a  crisis,  but  we  have 
sometimes  thought  that  such  would  be  his  destiny. 


JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL. 

WE  have  nothing  biographical  to  say  respecting  Mr. 
Lowell ;  we  know  not  that  his  history  presents  any 
striking  facts.  He  is  the  son  of  a  distinguished  Bos 
ton  divine  ;  he  graduated  at  Harvard,  and  with  high 
honors,  and  he  wrote  excellent  poetry  at  an  early 
age. 

But  Lowell  is  a  remarkable  man  and  poet.  He 
lacks  the  fire  of  Whittier  ;  he  is  possibly  inferior  to 
many  American  poets  in  important  respects,  but  that 
he  is  one  of  the  first  poets  of  this  age  no  man  will  deny. 
He  is  sincerely  a  reformer ;  his  sympathies  are  en 
tirely  with  the  oppressed  and  down-trodden  ;  he  has 
always  been  true  to  the  cause  of  the  negro  slave,  and 
many  of  his  poems  prove  it.  Some  of  his  poems  are 
exceedingly  beautiful,  while  others  are  full  of  grand 
thoughts,  which  strike  upon  the  ear  and  heart,  like 
the  booming  cannon-shot,  which  tells  that  an  ardently 
desired  conflict  has  commenced.  This  class  of  poems 
are  less  fiery  than  Whittier's  reform  poetry,  but  a 
very  few  of  them  are,  we  have  sometimes  thought, 
characterized  by  more  grandeur  than  any  of  Whit- 


308  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

tier's  upon  the  same  subject.  One  of  the  most  beauti 
ful  of  Lowell's  poems  is  that  entitled  "  The  Forlorn" 
It  betrays  the  nature  of  his  religion  and  philosophy  ; 
at  least,  it  proves  that  his  sympathies  are  with  the 
poor  and  friendless.  To  us,  it  seems  that  this  poem 
can  never  die — that  some  of  its  stanzas  are  unsur 
passed  by  any  modern  poetry. 

THE  FORLORN. 

THE  night  is  dark,  the  stinging  sleet, 

Swept  by  the  bitter  gusts  of  air, 
Drives  whistling  down  the  lonely  street, 

And  stiffens  on  the  pavement  bare. 

The  street-lamps  flare  and  struggle  dim 

Through  the  white  sleet-clouds  as  they  pass, 

Or,  governed  by  a  boisterous  whim, 
Drop  down  and  rattle  on  the  glass. 

One  poor,  heart-broken,  out-cast  girl 
Faces  the  east  wind's  searching  flaws, 

And,  as  about  her  heart  they  whirl, 
Her  tattered  cloak  more  tightly  draws. 

The  flat  brick  walls  look  cold  and  bleak, 
Her  bare  feet  to  the  side-walk  freeze  ; 

Yet  dares  she  }Tet  a  shelter  seek, 

Though  faint  with  hunger  and  disease. 

The  sharp  storm  cuts  her  forehead  bare, 
And,  piercing  through  her  garments  thin, 

Beats  on  her  shrunken  breast,  and  there 
Makes  colder  the  cold  heart  within. 


JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL.  309 

She  lingers  where  a  ruddy  glow 

Streams  outward  through  an  open  shutter, 

Giving  more  bitterness  to  woe, 
More  loneliness  to  desertion  utter. 

One  half  the  cold  she  had  not  felt 

Until  she  saw  this  gush  of  light 
Spread  warmly  forth,  and  seemed  to  melt 

Its  slow  way  through  the  dead'ning  night. 

She  hears  a  woman's  voice  within, 

Singing  sweet  words  her  childhood  knew, 

And  years  of  misery  and  sin 

Furl  off  and  leave  her  heaven  blue. 

Her  freezing  heart,  like  one  who  sinks 

Out-wearied  in  the  drifting  snow, 
Drowses  to  deadly  sleep,  and  thinks 

No  longer  of  its  hopeless  woe : 

Old  fields,  and  clear  blue  summer  days, 
Old  meadows,  green  with  grass  and  trees, 

That  shimmer  through  the  trembling  bare, 
And  whiten  in  the  western  breeze ; 

Old  faces — all  the  friendly  past 

Rises  within  her  heart  again, 
And  sunshine  from  her  childhood  cast 

Makes  summer  of  the  icy  rain. 

Enhaloed  by  a  mild,  warm  glow, 

From  all  humanity  apart, 
She  hears  old  footsteps  wandering  slow 

Through  the  lone  chambers  of  her  heart 

Outside  the  porch  below  the  door, 

Her  cheek  upon  the  cold,  hard  stone, 
She  lies,  no  longer  foul  and  poor, 

No  longer  dreary  and  alone. 


310  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

Next  morning,  something  heavily 
Against  the  opening  door  did  weigh, 

And  there,  from  sin  and  sorrow  free, 
A  woman  on  the  threshold  lay. 

A  smile  upon  the  wan  lips  told 

That  she  had  found  a  calm  release, 
And  that,  from  out  the  want  and  cold, 

The  song  had  borne  her  soul  in  peace; 

For,  whom  the  heart  of  man  shuts  out, 
Straightway  the  heart  of  God  takes  in, 

And  fences  them  all  round  about 

With  silence  mid  the  world's  loud  din ; 

And  one  of  his  great  charities 

Is  music,  and  it  doth  not  scorn 
To  close  the  lids  upon  the  eyes 

Of  the  polluted  and  forlorn. 

Far  was  she  from  her  childhood's  home, 
Farther  in  guilt  had  wandered  thence, 

Yet  thither  it  had  bid  her  come 
To  die  in  maiden  innocence. 

Mr.  Lowell  lias  shown  that  he  is  a  wit  and  humor 
ist  in  the  publication  of  his  " Biglow  Papers"  .  He 
is  the  only  American  who  has  attempted  to  laugh 
down  the  oppressors  of  the  slave — the  propagandists 
of  slavery.  Some  of  the  Biglow  poems  are  capital 
specimens  of  Yankee  wit  and  humor.  They  are  of 
course  written  purposely  in  the  rough,  exaggerated, 
Yankee  style.  Hosea  gives  his  ideas  of  war  as 
follows : 


JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL.  311 

"Ez  for  war,  I  call  it  murder, — 

There  you  hev  it  plain  an'  flat; 
I  don't  want  to  go  no  furder 
Than  my  testy  men  t  for  that; 

"God  haz  sed  so  plump  and  fairly, 

It's  ez  long  ez  it  is  broad, 
An'  you've  gut  to  git  up  airly 
Ef  you  want  to  take  in  God." 

Occasionally  in  the  midst  of  fun,  a  fine,  grand  verse 
occurs,  which  puts  away  all  laughter  from  the  face. 
For  instance,  the  following  verse  from  the  same  poem, 
from  which  the  foregoing  was  extracted  : 

"Massachusetts,  God  forgive  her, 
She's  a  kneelin'  with  the  rest, 
She  that  ough'  to  ha'  clung  forever 
In  her  grand,  old  eagle  nest; 
She  that  ough'  to  stand  so  fearless 
While  the  wracks  are  round  her  hurled, 
Holdin'  up  a  beacon  peerless 
To  the  oppressed  of  all  the  world  1  " 

One  of  the  most  popular  of  Lowell's  Biglow  po 
ems,  is  that  upon  John  P.  Robinson.  In  it  General 
Gushing  gets  the  following  hit : 

"  Gineral  C.  is  a  dreffle  smart  man  : 
He's  been  on  all  sides  that  give  places  or  pelf; 
But  consistency  still  woz  a  part  of  his  plan, — 
He's  been  true  to  one  party — an'  that  is  himself ; — 

So  John  P. 

Robinson  he 
Sez  he  shall  vote  for  Gineral  C. 


312  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

"  G-ineral  C.  he  goes  in  fer  the  war, 
He  don't  vally  principle  more'n  an  old  cud ; 
"Wut  did  God  make  us  raytoual  creeters  fer, 
But  glory  an'  gunpowder,  plunder  an'  blood  ? 

So  John  P. 

Robinson  he 

Sez  he  shall  vote  for  Gineral  C. 
******  * 

"  Parson  "Wilbur  sez  he  never  heerd  in  his  life 
Thet  the  Apostles  rigged  out  in  their  swaller-tail  coats, 
An*  marched  round  in  front  of  drum  an'  a  fife, 
To  git  some  on  'em  office,  an'  some  on  'em  votes ; 

But  John  P. 

Robinson  he 
Sez  they  don't  know  everything  down  in  Judee." 

Here  is  a  capital  hit  at  a  certain  class  of  men  : 

"  I'm  willin'  a  man  should  go  tollable  strong 
Agin  wrong  in  the  abstract,  fer  thet  kind  of  wrong 
Is  oilers  unpoplar  an'  never  gets  pitied, 
Because  its  a  crime  no  one  ever  committed ; 
But  he  mustn't  be  hard  on  partickler  sins, 
Coz  then  he'll  be  kickin'  the  people's  own  shins." 

"  The  debate  in  the  Sennit,"  is  a  humorous  poem, 
one  or  two  stanzas  of  which  we  will  copy  : 

"  'Here  we  stan'  on  the  Constitution,  by  thunder 
Its  a  fact  o'  which  there's  bushels  o'  proofs  ; 
Fer  how  could  we  trample  on't  so,  I  wonder, 
Eft  wornt  that  it's  oilers  under  our  hoofs  ? ' 

Sez  John  C.  Calhoun,  sez  he  ; — 

'  Human  rights  liaint  no  more 

Right  to  come  on  this  floor. 

No  mor'n  the  man  in  the  moon,'  sez  h«. 


JAMES  KU3SELL  LOWELL.  313 

"'The  North  haint  no  kind  o'  bisness  with  nothin', 
An'  you've  no  idee  how  much  bother  it  saves; 
We  aint  none  riled  by  their  frettin'  and  frothin,' 
We're  used  to  lay  in'  the  string  on  our  slaves' 

Sez  John  C.  Calhoun,  sez  he  ; — 

Sez  Mister  Foote 

'I  should  like  to  shoot 

The  holl  gang,  by  the  gret  horn  spoon,'  sez  he. 


"  '  The  masses  ough'  to  labor  an'  we  lay  on  soffies, 
Thet's  the  reason  I  want  to  spread  Freedom's  aree; 
It  puts  all  the  cunninest  on  us  in  office, 
And  reelises  our  Maker's  orig'nal  idee,' 

Sez  John  C.  Calhoun,  sez  he  ; — 

'That's  ez  plain,'  sez  Cass 

'  Ez  that  some  one's  an  ass, 

It's  as  clear  as  the  sun  is  at  noon,'  sez  he. 

" '  Slavery's    a  thing  thet  depends  on  complexion. 
It's  God's  law  that  fetters  on  black  skins  don't  chafe  ; 
Ef  brains  woz  to  settle  it  (horrid  reflection  !) 
Wich  of  our  h on  n able  body  'd  be  safe    ' 

Sez  John  C.  Calhoun,  sez  he ; — 

Sez  Mister  Hannegan 

Afore  he  began  agin, 

'  Thet  exception  is  quite  oppertoon,'  sez  he. 

"  'Gen'le  Cass,  Sir,  you  needn't  be  twitchin'  your  collar, 
Your  merit's  quite  clear  by  the  dut  on  your  knees, 
At  the  North  we  don't  make  no  distinctions  of  color; 
You  can  all  take  a  lick  at  our  shoes  w'n  you  please,' 

Sez  John  C.  Calhoun,  sez  he; — 

Sez  Mister  Jarnagin 

'  They  wont  hev  to  larn  agin, 

They  all  on  'em  know  the  old  toon,'  sez  he. 
N' 


314  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

"  'The  slavery  question  aint  no  ways  bewilderin' 
North  and  South  hev  one  int'rest,  its  plain  to  a  glance ; 
Northern  men,  like  us  patriarchs,  dont  sell  their  childrin, 
But  they  du  sell  themselves,  ef  they  git  a  good  chance.' 

Sez  John  C.  Calhoun,  sez  he ; — 

Sez  Atherton  here 

'  This  is  gittin  severe 

I  wish  I  could  dive  like  a  loon,'  sez  he." 

But  we  can  give  the  reader  no  fair  idea  of  the  pe 
culiar  merit  of  the  "  Biglow  Papers  "  in  our  brief  ex 
tracts.  Nor  have  we  pretended  to  quote  the  best  of 
Lowell's  reform  poetry  ;  to  gain  a  just  idea  of  his  tal 
ents  and  position,  the  reader  must — if  he  has  not 
already — read  his  books,  a  luxury  such  as  one  rarely 
enjoys.  We  have  attempted  no  sketch  of  Lowell — 
no  criticism — but  have  rather  penned  a  few  desultory 
thoughts  upon  him  and  his  poetry,  wishing  at  the 
same  time  to  preserve  among  these  papers  one  of  the 
most  touching  and  beautiful  poems  which  sympathy 
for  the  poor  and  outcast  has  brought  into  being. 


HORACE  GREELEY.* 

LAUGHED  at  by  the  pomatumed  and  conceited  fops 
on  Broadway ;  hissed  at  by  the  devotees  of  cotton  in 
Wall-street ;  hated  intensely  by  all  demagogues  and 
workers  of  iniquity,  and  disliked  by  mouldy  conserva 
tives,  whether  in  church  or  state,  Horace  Greeley  is 
nevertheless  one  of  the  greatest  men  in  America. 
He  possesses  an  intellect  acute  and  powerful ;  a  con 
science  which  is  not  seared  ;  a  great  heart,  and  a 
generous  hand.  We  know  of  no  living  American 
who  can  at  all  compare  with  him  as  a  writer  of  vig 
orous  English,  in  that  particular  department  of  litera 
ture  which  he  long  ago  made  his  own.  He  has  all 
of  Cobbett's  graphic  power  without  his  brutality — he 
has  all  of  the  earnest  sympathy  for  the  unfortunate 
of  every  race,  clime,  and  color  which  characterizes 
some  of  the  most  popular  of  transatlantic  authors, 
without  their  sentimentalism.  Some  of  his  editorials, 
dashed  off  with  his  heart  on  fire,  will  compare  fa 
vorably  with  some  of  the  best  of  the  modern  thun- 
derer,  the  London  Times.  The  leaders  of  the  Times 
are  more  polished  perhaps,  are  certainly  more  classi- 

*  We  are  indebted  to  Parton's  admirable  Life  of  Horace  Gredty 
for  many  of  the  facts  in  this  sketch. 


316  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

cal,  but  in  tremendous  power  of  expression,  they  can 
not  surpass  some  of  the  best  of  the  editorials  of  Hor 
ace  Greeley.  "With  a  shrewd,  clear  intellect,  an  as 
tonishingly  vigorous  style,  and  a  heart  easily  wrought 
up  to  that  degree  of  passion  necessary  to  the  produc 
tion  of  the  best  kind  of  writing,  he  fears  not  the  quill 
of  any  man  living.  Bennett  may  iterate  and  reiterate 
his  senseless  gibberish  in  reference  to  Greeley's 
"  isms"  his  "  shocking  bad  hat,"  and  the  "  old  gray 
surtout"  —  he  may  affect  to  laugh  at  "  the  philoso 
pher,"  but  he  fears  and  hates  him  as  Milton's  devils 
feared  and  hated  their  heavenly  combatants.  So  it 
is  everywhere.  The  enemies  of  Horace  Greeley — 
and  he  has  many  and  bitter  ones — know  and  feel  his 
power,  though  they  often  affect  the  contrary.  Let 
him  be  careless,  or  even  slovenly  in  his  costume,  say 
that  he  does  ride  a  vast  number  of  "  hobbies,"  not 
one  of  his  enemies  dare  meet  him  in  fair  combat  in 
reference  to  those  "  hobbies."  We  by  no  means 
swallow  everything  which  is  pronounced  good  by 
Horace  Greeley,  but  we  are  at  the  same  time  per 
fectly  aware  that  among  that  large  class  of  dema 
gogues  and  unprincipled  editors  who  make  it  a  point 
to  libel  and  ridicule  him  upon  every  possible  occa 
sion,  there  is  not  a  man  who  could  hold  an  hour's  ar 
gument  with  him  upon  the  most  untenable  of  all  his 
"  isms,"  without  securing  to  himself  a  severe  defeat. 
Although  Mr.  Greeley  has  long  had  the  reputation 


HORACE  GREELEY.  317 

of  being  a  shrewd  politician,  we  think  that  his  forte 
does  not  lie  in  that  direction.  He  writes  best  as  a 
philanthropist  and  reformer,  and  it  is  as  such  that  he 
will  be  known  hereafter.  When  pleading  the  cause 
of  the  poor,  degraded  inebriate,  or  the  chained  and 
scourged  bondman,  he  rises  into  his  true  manhood, 
and  becomes  most  graphic  and  eloquent  in  his  lan 
guage.  His  terse  and  fiery  sentences  fall  like  light 
ning  upon  the  head  of  the  rumseller  or  stealer  of 
men,  and  when  picturing  the  squalor  and  wretched 
ness  of  the  drunkard's  home,  the  misery  of  his  wife 
and  little  ones,  or  the  agony  of  the  slave-mother  from 
whose  arms  her  child  has  been  torn,  he  pours  forth  a 
genuine  pathos  which  gives  to  him  instantly  the 
hearts  of  thousands. 

We  have  said  that  Mr.  Greeley  has  bitter  enemies ; 
it  is  true,  but  no  man  has  warmer  or  more  devoted 
friends.  There  are  men  who  have  the  blood  of  an 
cient  and  renowned  families  in  their  veins,  men  of 
immense  wealth,  men  of  high  station,  of  great  intel 
lect,  who  count  it  an  honor  to  be  intimate  with  that 
carelessly-attired,  bald-headed  editor.  There  are 
men  who  pride  themselves  upon  their  gentility  who 
would  walk  down  Broadway  arm  in  arm  with  Gree 
ley,  feeling  honored  and  being  honored  by  the  tem 
porary  intimacy,  though  his  boots  were  cowhide,  and 
his  hat  a  half-dozen  winters  old.  But  the  best,  the 
heartiest  friends  of  the  great  editor  are  the  workers 


318  MODEKN    AGITATOKS. 

of  this  country,  the  men  who  have  made  America 
what  she  is.  It  is  the  intelligent  farmers,  the  clear 
headed  mechanics,  the  teachers,  the  liberal  and  earn 
est  clergymen,  the  reformers  everywhere,  who  love 
and  appreciate  him  best.  To  them  he  is  a  tower  of 
strength,  a  city  of  refuge.  Many  a  reformer,  when 
ready  to  faint,  has  been  cheered  by  the  thought  that 
the  most  powerful  editor  in  the  country,  day  after 
day  writes  his  most  vigorous  articles  for  the  drunkard 
and  the  slave.  However  much  these  men  may  in 
the  past  have  disliked  his  political  writings,  or  his 
political  conduct,  his  philanthropic  writings  have  won 
their  warm  esteem  for  the  author. 

From  these  general  remarks  we  turn  to  trace  his 
early  history.  It  is  a  remarkable  one  ;  for  the  posi 
tion  which  he  has  reached,  as  one  of  the  first  editors 
of  the  country,  he  has  struggled  for  inch  by  inch. 
His  birth  and  parentage  gave  him  none  of  those  ad 
vantages  for  intellectual  improvement  that  are  now 
aiforded  almost  universally  to  every  farmer's  boy.  The 
district  school,  from  which  he  obtained  his  first  knowl 
edge  of  books,  was  taught  during  the  three  or  four 
winter  months  by  some  young  person  who  could 
barely  "pass  examination"  before  the  village  minis 
ter  and  one  or  two  functionaries,  of  perhaps  much 
less  practical  and  rudimental  education. 

Mr.  Greeley's  maternal  ancestors  were  Scotch- 
Irish,  who  migrated  to  this  country  in  1718,  and  set- 


HORACE  GREELEY.  31'? 

tied  in  various  parts  of  New  England.  They  were  a 
bold,  ipthusiastic,  hardy  set,  and  in  them  we  find 
many  of  those  traits  of  character  which,  bequeathed 
to  Horace  as  his  only  legacy,  have  made  him  what 
he  is.  From  the  same  source  sprang  Stark  of  revolu 
tionary  memory,  and  in  the  battle  of  Bennington  per 
ished  two  of  Mr.  Greeley's  great  uncles.  His  pater 
nal  ancestors  were  from  Nottingham,  England.  They 
were  early  noted  for  an  obstinacy  of  purpose,  which, 
as  it  descended  through  successive  generations  to 
Zaccheus  Greeley,  the  father  of  Horace,  may  be  said 
to  have  softened  to  a  tenacity  hard  to  overcome. 
This  is  noticed  not  only  in  their  will,  but  in  every 
mental  and  physical  development.  Their  memory 
was  wonderful ;  they  held  on  to  life  itself  with  a  vigor 
which  is  surprising.  Honest  and  courageous,  though 
generally  poor,  they  left  to  posterity  better  than  a 
prince's  patrimony — it  was  a  character,  an  example 
worthy  of  imitation. 

Zaccheus  Greeley  and  Mary  Woodburn  were  mar 
ried  in  1807.  They  lived  upon  a  small  farm,  the 
fruits  of  their  own  industry,  in  Amherst,  New  Hamp 
shire.  Under  circumstances  rather  inauspicious,  in 
February,  1811,  Horace,  the  subject  of  our  sketch, 
was  ushered  into  existence.  Of  seven  children  he 
was  the  third,  and,  according  to  all  accounts,  he  was 
the  most  unlikely  of  the  whole  ;  his  frame  was  light, 
and  his  constitution  fragile ;  but  both  were  to  be 


T20  MODERN    AGITATOKB. 

toughened  and  invigorated  by  the  hard  work  and  the 
fresh,  mountain  air,  that  can  hardly  he  foundfexcept 
among  the  hills  and  valleys  of  New  England.  The 
population  of  Amherst  were,  and  are  still,  dependent 
for  the  means  of  subsistence  upon  a  soil  sterile,  stony 
and  forbidding,  except  to  the  gaze  of  those  hardy 
men  who,  from  year  to  year,  follow  the  plow  over  its 
surface.  These  villages  seem  to  be  produced  from 
some  stereotype  plate  of  nature,  and  once  planted, 
are  as  unchangeable  as  the  very  hills  upon  which 
they  are  located.  There  will  be  found  a  "  meeting 
house,"  (Congregational,)  a  "church,"  (Episcopal,) 
and  a  store,  where  is  sold  everything  in  general  and 
nothing  in  particular.  Upon  the  open  area,  where 
two  or  more  roads  meet,  the  school-house  is  located  ; 
is  in  fact  seemingly  "  turned  out  doors ; "  the  peo 
ple  have  indeed  got  to  regard  it  as  so  much  a  nui 
sance,  that,  even  now,  when  a  new  one  is  contempla 
ted,  the  land  requisite  for  a  site  can  hardly  be  bought 
for  any  price.  From  this  center  the  farm-houses  are 
placed  in  every  direction,  at  first  thickly,  or  at  neigh 
borly  distances;  but  as  you  recede  from  the  church 
they  grow  less  frequent,  until  you  are  alone  in  the 
forest  or  pasture  lands.  Such  was  the  situation  of 
Horace  Greeley's  birth-place,  and  such  the  scene  of 
his  early  childhood  ;  it  was  a  place  where  destitution 
and  wealth  are  alike  unknown,  though  every  one  has 
for  a  contented  mind  an  abundance ;  it  was  a  com- 


HORACE  GREELEY. 

munity  of  honest,  common-sense  men — practical 
farmers. 

Horace,  from  his  own  earliest  recollections,  as  well 
as  from  the  account  of  those  who  watched  his  infancy, 
seems  to  have  had  a  great  predilection  for  hooks. 
He  says,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  "I  think  T  am  in- 
dehted  for  my  first  impulse  toward  intellectual  ac 
quirement  and  exertion  to  my  mother's  grandmother, 
who  came  out  from  Ireland  among  the  first  settlers  of 
Londonderry.  She  must  have  been  well  versed  in 
Irish  and  Scotch  traditions,  pretty  well  info:  med  and 
strong  minded  ;  and  my  mother  "being  left  mother 
less  when  quite  young,  her  grandmother  exerted  great 
influence  over  her  mental  development.  I  was  a 
third  child,  the  two  preceding  having  died  young, 
and  I  presume  my  mother  was  more  attached  to  me 
on  that  ground,  and  the  extreme  feebleness  of  my 
constitution.  My  mind  was  early  filled  by  her  with 
the  traditions,  ballads,  and  snatches  of  history  she 
had  learned  from  her  grandmother,  which,  though 
conveying  very  distorted  and  incorrect  ideas  of  his 
tory,  yet  served  to  awaken  in  me  a  thirst  for  knowl 
edge,  and  a  lively  interest  for  learning  and  history." 

In  more  than  the  common  and  trite  sense  was  he  a 
remarkable  child.  We  think  it  exceedingly  interest 
ing  and  instructive  to  linger  a  little  here,  ami  exam 
ine  facts,  to  see,  if  possible,  what  were  the  elements 
of  a  constitution  which,  under  such  circumstances, 
N*  21 


322  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

could  develop  so  remarkable  a  man.  His  mother 
was  a  stout,  muscular  woman,  who  esteemed  it  no 
disgrace  to  hoe  in  the  garden,  or  pitch  and  rake  hay, 
and  it  is  asserted  that  she  could  cradle  with  equal 
facility  in  the  house  and  in  the  fields.  She  could  do 
more  farm  work  in  a  day  than  a  man,  and  then  tell 
stories  all  the  evening.  To  the  ladies  of  our  day 
these  would  hardly  be  considered  recommendations, 
but  then  they  were  considered  a  prodigious  feat.  She 
was  also  quick  at  the  spinning-wheel,  and  to  its  hum  her 
tongue  kept  a  continual  harmony,  for  the  amusement 
and  benefit  of  her  children.  With  eager  avidity 
Horace  listened  to  the  anecdotes  which  fell  from  her 
lips,  and  here  he  first  felt  that  intense  yearning  for 
knowledge  which  afterward  made  him  so  indefatiga 
ble  a  student.  At  two  years  of  age  he  pored  over 
the  pages  of  the  bible  with  great  interest,  and  news 
papers  thrown  upon  the  floor  furnished  him  great 
amusement ;  at  three  he  could  read  any  of  the  ordi 
nary  books  designed  for  children  ;  at  four  could  read 
anywhere,  and  with  his  book  sidewise,  upside  down, 
or  in  any  position.  When  only  three  years  old  he 
commenced  attending  the  district  school,  and  so  eager 
was  he  to  be  present,  that  if  the  snow  was  piled  in 
drifts,  he  prevailed  upon  his  aunt  to  carry  him  to  the 
school-house.  The  great  ambition  of  those  days 
seems  to  have  been  to  become  the  best  speller  in  the 
school,  and  to  this  eminence  our  hero  early  aspired  ; 


HORACE  GREELEY.  823 

once  gained,  he  always  maintained  it.  For  this  at 
tainment  he  was  admired  by  his  mates,  but  seems 
not  to  have  been  envied.  He  cared  little  for  the  or 
dinary  sports  which  so  much  amuse  children  at  this 
age,  but,  as  early  as  his  fifth  or  sixth  year,  preferred 
to  steal  away  with  a  book  to  some  secluded  place, 
and  devour  its  contents.  In  other  respects  he  was 
quite  singular  ;  he  never  would  fight  a  boy  whatever 
might  be  the  provocation  ;  if  another  was  disposed  to 
quarrel  with  him,  he  quietly  stood  and  bore  the  in 
fliction,  which  soon  became  more  tiresome  to  the  au 
thor  than  to  the  recipient.  He  is  described  at  this 
time  as  a  delicate,  flaxen-haired  child,  of  a  gentle  and 
retiring  disposition,  remarkable  mainly  for  his  attach 
ment  to  books.  This  grew  with  his  mind,  till  it  be 
came  the  all  absorbing  passion  of  his  life.  As  he 
grew  older,  he  ransacked  all  the  libraries  in  the  neigh 
borhood  to  satisfy  his  intellectual  appetite  ;  but  so 
far  were  they  from  satiating  it,  they  seemed  only  to 
act  as  stimulants.  He  borrowed  from  the  minister, 
from  the  village  collection,  from  every  source  in  his 
reach,  till  he  became  a  walking  encyclopedia.  It 
was  a  peculiarity  of  his  manner  of  reading  that  he 
became  so  absorbed  in  his  book  as  to  lose  all  appa 
rent  consciousness  of  what  was  going  on  about  him. 
Thus  he  stored  his  mind  with  that  knowledge  which 
was  to  be  so  invaluable  to  him  in  after  life.  It  was 
the  only  education  that  nature  offered  him,  and  he 


324:  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

gladly  availed  himself  of  it ;  so  that  when  time  came 
for  reflection,  he  possessed  a  perfect  mine  of  informa 
tion,  whose  treasures  were  as  exhaustless  in  extent  as 
they  were  difficult  in  acquisition. 

There  is  hardly  a  boy  in  New  England  so  small  but 
that  upon  the  farm  some  work  can  be  found  simple 
enough  for  his  capacities.  From  the  time  that  spring 
opens,  each  season  brings  to  the  juvenile  his  propor 
tion  of  light  labor.  The  corn  is  to  be  dropped  ;  the 
team  to  be  driven  for  the  plow  ;  the  stock  to  be  fed  ; 
the  horse  to  be  ridden  between  the  rows  of  corn  and 
potatoes,  previous  to  hoeing  ;  the  gathering  of  apples, 
and  the  various  autumnal  crops,  afford  work  for  all 
sizes  and  all  ages.  Horace  never  evaded  these  for 
his  book,  but  by  diligence  in  accomplishing  his  ap 
portioned  job,  managed  to  save  time  for  his  favorite 
indulgence,  without  interfering  with  the  requirements 
of  the  farm.  Among  sports  he  was  fond  only  of 
fishing,  and  his  "  luck  "  always  excelled  that  of  his 
companions,  "  because  that  while  they  fished  for  fun, 
he  fished  for  fish." 

When  only  ten  years  old  his  father  became  in 
volved  in  debt,  by  signing  the  obligations  of  some  of 
his  neighbors,  was  unable  to  meet  the  pecuniary  de 
mands  upon  him,  and,  as  a  consequence,  his  little 
farm,  house,  and  all  that  in  the  childhood  of  Horace 
went  to  make  up  home,  was  swept  away  by  creditors. 
His  father,  a  ruined  bankrupt,  was  forced  to  flee  the 


HORACE  GKEELKY.  325 

state  to  avoid  arrest,  and  left  his  family  behind  him. 
After  thirty  years  Horace  discharged  the  last  of  these 
obligations  with  honor.  The  family,  with  the  little 
wreck  of  their  household  furniture,  followed  the  fa 
ther  to  Westhaven,  Vermont,  where  he  had  hired  a 
small  house,  and  here  they  survived  the  first  winter 
in  extreme  indigence.  In  this  new  region  the  book 
of  Nature  afforded  more  various  beauties  than  at  Am- 
herst,  and  it  was  of  all  others  the  delight  of  the  boy's 
contemplation.  Lake  Champlain,  with  its  grand  and 
beautiful  environs,  lay  within  three  miles  of  the  cot 
tage  and  here  and  there  among  those  hills,  little 
streams,  like  threads  of  silver,  wound  about,  with  an 
occasional  lake  in  their  course,  like  a  string  of  beads 
about  the  neck  of  a  child.  The  hills  lifted  their  sum 
mits  to  the  clouds,  and  their  sloping  sides,  covered 
with  verdure,  extended  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach. 
The  whole  extent  of  country  became  a  grand  cradle 
for  Greeley's  imagination.  The  circumstances  in 
which  the  family  were  now  placed  compelled  the  ut 
most  economy  in  every  habit ;  the  usual  dress  of 
Horace  was  a  hat,  cotton  shirt,  and  a  pair  of  pants, 
whose  counterpart  cannot  be  found,  perhaps,  upon 
the  poorest  wayfarer  of  modern  times.  It  is  stated 
that  during  his  residence  in  Westhaven,  his  clothing 
did  not  average  a  cost  of  three  dollars  a  year,  and 
that  until  he  was  twenty-one  probably  not  fifty  dol 
were  expended  upon  his  dress.  Economy  wad 


326  MODERN    AGITATOKS. 

the  study  of  the  family,  and  their  teacher  stern  ne 
cessity.  The  habits  which  he  was  here  forced  to 
learn  will  perhaps  account  for  some  of  the  apparent 
eccentricities  of  his  subsequent  life.  The  family  did 
save  something  by  their  frugality,  and  it  became  a 
ruling  principle  of  Horace  never  to  incur  the  slight 
est  unnecessary  expense  while  there  remained  a  debt 
unpaid.  To  his  store  of  intellectual  knowledge  Hor 
ace  added  but  little  in  Westhaven.  The  schools  were 
much  the  same  as  in  Amherst,  certainly  no  better ; 
and  though  for  a  while  he  attended  regularly,  he 
could  oftener  inform  the  teacher  than  learri  from  him. 
The  text  books  also  being  much  the  same,  his  mind 
found  a  respite  and  recreation  in  assisting  boys  older 
than  himself,  and  three  times  as  large,  to  master  dif 
ficulties  which  he  had  solved  long  ago.  At  length 
he  became  to  the  teachers  somewhat  of  an  annoyance, 
by  his  inquisitiveness,  which  they  were  unable  to 
satisfy,  and  as  a  final  result  he  was  kept  at  home. 
Here  he  assisted  the  other  children  in  their  studies, 
and  continued  his  reading.  At  the  age  of  fifteen  he 
had  thoroughly  perused  Robinson  Crusoe,  the  Ara 
bian  lights,  Shakspeare,  Robertson's  and  Goldsmith's 
histories,  and  as  many  romances  and  works  of  fiction 
as  he  could  lay  hold  of. 

Horace  had  always  cherished  the  idea  of  becoming 
a  printer.  His  father  gave  him  but  little  encourage 
ment,  but  at  eleven  permitted  him  to  walk  to  White- 


HORACE  GREELEY.  327 

hall,  where  a  news  paper  was  published,  to  talk  with 
the  proprietor.  That  individual  informed  him  that 
he  was  too  young  to  think  of  it,  so  he  had  nothing  to 
do  but  to  return,  work,  and  wait.  With  impatience 
he  did  so  for  four  years  longer,  when  occurred  a  cir 
cumstance  which  caused  an  epoch  in  his  history.  In 
the  Northern  Spectator^  published  at  East  Poultney, 
Yermont,  he  saw  an  advertisement  for  an  apprentice, 
and  determined  to  apply  for  the  place. 

In  the  spring  of  1826,  the  gentlemanly  editor  of 
that  paper  was  hoeing  potatoes  in  his  garden  one 
morning,  when  in  walked  a  boy,  rudely  clad,  to  in 
quire  after  the  situation.  How  little  thought  the  edi 
tor  of  that  journal,  that  the  uncouth  lad — the  "  devil  " 
— would  one  day  not  merely  control  a  journal  like  his 
own,  but  edit  and  manage  the  first  journal  in  Amer 
ica  !  Mr.  Bliss  thought  he  had  indeed  an  unpromising 
look,  but  upon  asking  him  a  few  questions,  discovered 
that  there  was  something  more  than  ordinary  about 
him.  In  the  language  of  that  gentleman,  "  On  en 
tering  into  conversation,  and  a  partial  examination 
of  the  qualification  of  my  new  applicant,  it  required 
but  little  time  to  discover  that  he  possessed  a  mind 
of  no  common  order,  and  an  acquired  intelligence  far 
beyond  his  years.  He  had  had  but  little  opportunity 
at  the  common  school,  but  he  said  'he  had  read 
some,'  and  what  he  had  read  he  well  understood  and 
remembered.  In  addition  to  the  ripe  intelligence 


32  S  MODKKN  AGITATOR. 

manifested  by  one  so  young,  and  whose  instruction 
had  been  so  limited,  there  was  a  single-mindedness, 
a  truthfulness  and  common  sense  in  what  he  said, 
that  at  once  commanded  my  regard."  Terms  were 
subsequently  arranged,  and  Horace  bade  farewell  to 
the  farm,  as  a  means  of  subsistence,  forever.  Shortly 
afterward,  his  father  removed  with  his  family  to  Erie 
county,  Pennsylvania,  and  Horace,  at  the  age  of  fif 
teen,  was  left  to  depend  entirely  upon  his  own  re 
sources  for  a  living. 

Horace  felt  that  now  was  the  time  for  him  to  gather 
up  his  energies,  and  improve  them  to  the  best  advan 
tage.  The  long  anticipated  hour  had  arrived,  and  to 
his  new  avocation  he  eagerly  applied  himself.  The 
older  apprentices  utterly  failed  in  their  attempts  to 
divert  him  from  his  business,  and  ngain  we  have  re 
vealed  the  secret  of  his  success  ;  it  was  his  untiring 
application.  During  the  intervals  of  work,  he  em 
ployed  his  leisure  in  reading  the  exchanges,  and  was 
thus  unconsciously  obtaining  political  information, 
which  should  hereafter  be  the  substance  of  many  a 
brilliant  editorial.  He  here  joined  a  debating  soci 
ety,  where  he  became  noted  for  his  accurate  knowl 
edge  of  political  transactions,  and  it  was  soon  discov 
ered  that  in  debate  he  was  a  powerful  ally  and  dan 
gerous  opponent.  Against  all  opposition,  single 
handed  and  alone,  he  would  maintain  his  point  with 
an  energy  almost  prophetic.  Thus  early  was  it  no- 


IIO1IACE  GKEELEY.  329 

ticed  tliat  when  he  was  convinced  of  the  truth  of  a 
position,  all  attempts  to  dislodge  him,  without  show 
ing  his  error,  were  vain  ;  he  could  not  be  "  taken  by 
storm." 

His  person  presented  much  the  same  appearance  as 
when  upon  the  farm.  He  never  dressed  for  the  de 
bating  meetings,  for  the  very  simple  reason  that  he 
had  no  better  dress  to  put  on.  All  that  he  could  save 
from  the  meager  remuneration  of  fifty  dollars  per  year 
was  sent  to  his  father,  who  was  struggling  with  poverty 
in  the  western  wilds  of  Pennsylvania.  Twice  during 
his  residence  at  East  Poultney  he  visited  the  family, 
making  the  passages  on  foot  and  by  canal.  On  one 
of  these  trips  he  passed  through  Saratoga,  and  at  a 
subsequent  period  he  writes  this  half  humorous  no 
tice  of  his  impressions  of  that  watering  place. 

"  Saratoga !  bright  city  of  the  present !  thoa  cver-during 
one-and-twenty  of  existence !  a  wanderer  by  thy  stately  pala 
ces  and  gushing  fountains  salutes  thee !  Years,  yet  not  many, 
have  elapsed  since,  a  weary  roamer  from  a  distant  land,  he 
first  sought  thy  health-giving  waters.  November's  sky  was 
over  earth  and  him, and  more  than  all, over  thee;  and  its  chill 
ing  blasts  made  mournful  melody  amid  the  waving  branches 
of  thy  ever  verdant  pines.  Then,  as  now,  thou  wert  a  city  of 
tombs,  deserted  by  the  gay  throng  whose  light  laughter  reech 
oes  so  joyously  through  thy  summer-robed  arbors.  But  tc 
him,  thou  wert  ever  a  fairy  land,  and  he  wished  to  quaff  of 
thy  Hygeian  treasures  as  of  the  nectar  of  the  poet's  fables. 


330  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

One  long  and  earnest  draught  ere  its  sickening  disrelish  came 
over  him,  and  he  flung  down  the  cup  in  the  bitterness  of  disap 
pointment  and  disgust,  and  sadly  addressed  him  again  to  his 
pedestrian  journey.  Is  it  ever  thus  with  thy  castles,  Imagina 
tion]  thy  pictures,  Fancy  ?  thy  dreams,  O  Hope?  Perish  the 
unbidden  thought !  A  health  in  sparkling  congress  to  the  rain 
bow  of  life !  even  though  its  promise  prove  as  shadowy  as  the 
baseless  fabric  of  a  vision.  Better  even  the  dear  delusion  of 
Hope — if  delusion  it  must  be — than  the  rugged  reality  of  list 
less  despair.  (I  think  I  could  do  this  better  in  rhyme,  if  I  had 
not  trespassed  in  that  line  already.  However,  the  cabin  con 
versation  of  a  canal  packet  is  not  remarkably  favorable  to  po 
etry.)  In  plain  prose,  there  is  a  great  deal  of  mismanagement 
about  this  same  village  of  Saratoga.  The  season  gives  up  the 
ghost  too  easily." 

In  the  office  of  the  Northern  Spectator  he  contin 
ued  for  more  than  four  years,  aiding  in  the  printing, 
and  also  considerably  in  the  editing.  In  the  com 
mencement  of  the  fifth  year  of  his  apprenticeship, 
the  establishment  was  broken  up,  and  he  was  left 
again  to  shift  for  himself.  Nothing  daunted,  he  tied 
up  his  clothes  in  a  handkerchief,  slung  the  bundle 
across  his  back,  and  after  thankfully  receiving  the 
present  of  an  old  overcoat  from  his  host,  started  for 
his  father's  farm  in  Pennsylvania.  He  arrives  there 
in  June,  1830,  at  which  place  he  recruited  his  health 
and  strength  by  a  few  day's  respite,  and  then  obtained 
work  for  a  time  at  Jamestown.  Five  day's  stay  sat- 


*•  <*: 


HORACE  GRLE^EY.  331 

i.-lied  him  that  it  was  no  place  for  him,  and  he  ob 
tained  a  situation  temporarily  at  Lodi.  This  also 
proved  a  concern  which  wished  to  suspend  payment 
indefinitely,  and  having  worked  six  weeks  for  prom 
ises,  he  again  returned  to  the  farm. 

He  now  determined  to  try  that  city  of  peanut-war 
and  women-mob  notoriety,  yclept  Erie.  "With  pack 
and  stick  as  before,  he  started  for  the  office  of  the 
Erie  Gazette.  Judge  Sterrett,  then  and  now  the  edi 
tor  of  that  paper,  thus  mentions  him : 

"  I  was  not  in  the  printing  office  when  he  arrived.  I  came 
in  soon  after,  and  saw  him  sitting  at  the  table,  reading  the  news 
papers,  and  so  absorbed  in  them  that  he  paid  no  attention  to 
my  entrance.  My  first  feeling  was  one  of  astonishment,  that 
a  fellow  so  singularly  green  in  his  appearance  should  be  read 
ing,  and  above  all,  reading  so  intently.  I  looked  at  him  for  a 
few  moments,  and  then  finding  that  he  made  no  movement 
toward  acquainting  me  with  his  business,  I  took  my  composing 
stick  and  went  to  work.  He  continued  to  read  for  twenty 
minutes  or  more,  when  he  got  up,  and  coming  close  to  my  case, 
asked,  in  a  peculiar  whining  voice, '  Do  you  want  any  help  in  the 
printing  business  1 '  '  Why,'  suid  I,  ruuning  my  eye  involunta 
rily  up  and  down  the  extraordinary  figure, '  Did  you  ever  work 
at  the  trade  V  '  Yes,'  was  the  reply,  *  and  I  should  be  willing 
to  work  under  instructions  if  you  could  find  me  a  job/  " 

Upon  hearing  this,  the  Judge  immediately  sus 
pected  the  poor  fellow  of  being  a  runaway,  and  told 


•f  J-  -S 


332  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

•ft 

him  that  he  had  no  need  of  help.  ITorace  felt  badly 
enough,  and  returned  home.  It  happened  soon  after, 
that  the  Judge  fell  in  with  a  farmer,  who  recom 
mended  Horace  so  highly  that  he  was  sent  for  to  fill 
the  vacancy.  Once  more  at  his  old  place,  he  was  not 
long  working  himself  into  the  favor  of  the  proprietor, 
and  he  paid  him  the  usual  journeyman's  price  of 
twelve  dollars  per  month  and  board.  His  leisure,  as 
usual,  was  occupied  with  reading,  and  he  became  no 
ted  for  his  accurate  knowledge  of  political  transac 
tions,  both  past  and  present.  Here  he  remained 
seven  months,  when  the  workman,  whose  place  he 
was  supplying,  recovered  from  his  sickness,  and  Hor 
ace  was  again  out  of  employment.  Of  his  wages  he 
had,  during  these  months,  used  six  dollars  for  a  suit 
of  clothes,  and  the  balance  was  due  him.  Fifteen 
dollars  of  the  remainder  was  paid  down  to  him,  and 
a  note  for  the  balance  he  gave  to  his  father. 

In  Erie  fortune  gave  him  her  last  ugly  scowl,  and, 
full  of  hope,  he  resolved  to  push  for  New  York.  It 
certainly  was  not  his  fault  that  he  had  succeeded  no 
better,  for  he  had  done  all  that  the  most  faithful  man 
could  do,  and  all  was  in  vain.  He  knew  that,  in  New 
York,  if  he  should  not  succeed  it  must  be  his  own 
fault,  and  he  felt  willing  to  risk  an  adventure.  Sling 
ing  his  pack  upon  his  back  again,  he  traveled  on  foot 
and  by  canal,  until,  on  the  18th  of  August,  1831,  he 
landed  in  New  York.  His  articles  of  dress  were  still 


nOKACK  GltEELEY. 

the  same  that  he  had  purchased  at  Erie ;  his  cash  in 
pocket  was  ten  dollars ;  jet  these  were  not  his  capi 
tal,  and  he  valued  them  as  minor  affairs.  He  felt 
sure  that  if  he  could  once  get  a  foothold  in  that 
city  of  competition,  he  should  not  only  get  a  living 
but  make  himself  heard  and  felt. 

He  took  board  with  an  Irishman  at  two  and  a  half 
dollars  per  week,  and  then,  for  once,  he  did  attempt 
to  remedy  the  looks  of  the  outer  man,  by  purchasing 
a  suit  of  clothes.  The  next  thing  was  to  see  if  he 
could  find  employment.  He  went  from  one  office  to 
another  ;  among  others  to  the  Journal  of  Commerce, 
where  David  Hale  informed  him  that  he  thought  him 
a  runaway  apprentice,  who  could  do  no  better  than 
to  return  to  his  employer  ;  but  it  was  not  advice  that 
he  was  just  then  seeking,  but  employment.  For  this 
he  sought  diligently,  through  Friday  and  Saturday, 
yet  the  evening  of  the  last  day  in  the  week  found 
him  tired  of  walking  the  city,  and  more  weary  of  his 
miserable  success.  In  the  course  of  the  Sabbath,  he 
heard,  from  a  fellow  boarder,  that  they  were  in  want 
of  hands  at  West's,  No.  85  Chatham  street.  Accord 
ingly,  at  half  past  five  on  Monday  morning,  he  was 
seated  on  the  door-step  of  McElrath  &  Bangs'  book 
store,  the  second  loft  of  which  building  was  used  by 
Mr.  West,  as  their  printer.  He  was  not  aware  that 
at  that  hour  New  Yorkers  were  enjoying  the  best 
part  of  their  night's  rest,  and  of  course  he  had  some 


MODERN   AGITATORS. 

time  to  wait.  Did  Mr.  McElrath,  as  he  passed  in  that 
morning,  realize  that  the  seedy  looking  individual 
upon  his  steps  was  destined  to  be  in  a  few  years  his 
partner  in  one  of  the  most  flourishing  of  the  New 
York  dailies  ?  Unlikely  as  it  seemed,  yet  so  it  was 
to  be.  A  journeyman  of  West's  passing  in,  a  Ver- 
monter,  heard  his  story  and  took  him  up  stairs.  lie 
was  set  at  a  very  difficult  job  of  work,  upon  a  Poly 
glot  Jestament.  After  a  short  time  West  came  in, 

and  asked  his  foreman,  "  Did  you  hire  that  d n 

fool  ?  "  The  foreman  replied,  that,  in  the  urgent  want 
of  help,  he  had  set  him  at  work.  "  Well,"  said  the 
master,  "  Do  for  God's  sake  pay  him  oif  to-night,  and 
let  him  go  about  his  business."  When  Horace  pre 
sented  his  day's  work  of  proof  to  the  printer,  at  night, 
the  question  of  letting  him  go  was  quickly  settled ; 
his  day's  work  excelled  any  that  had  been  previously 
done  upon  the  job.  Horace  for  the  next  six  months 
earned  six  dollars  per  week,  upon  the  Polyglot.  Of 
the  company  then  in  the  office,  two  have  since  been 
members  of  congress,  three  influential  editors,  one 
has  made  a  fortune  and  is  now  a  leading  member  in 
a  firm  which  manufactures  annually  over  a  million 
of  artificial  teeth,  and  nearly  all  of  the  remainder 
have  reached  stations  of  wealth  and  influence.  In 
order  to  make  respectable  wages,  Horace  was  obliged 
to  work  hard,  early  and  late.  In  the  busiest  mo 
ments,  however,  he  could  sustain  a  vigorous  conver- 


HORACE  GREELEY.  335 

sation  upon  politics,  religion,  or  any  of  the  subjects 
likely  to  be  discussed  among  men  of  considerable  in 
telligence.  He  rose  immediately  in  the  estimation  of 
his  shopmates,  and  for  his  obliging  disposition,  as  well 
as  for  his  industry  and  intellectual  ability,  he  became 
"  the  lion  of  the  shop."  Though  exceedingly  careful 
in  his  own  personal  expenses,  he  was  generous  enough 
if  any  of  the  journeymen  wanted  money  ;  he  was 
never  behindhand  in  lending  them.  He  retained  his 
slouched  hat,  his  cotton  shirt,  his  linen  jacket  and  short 
trowsers,  that  he  might  have  something  left  to  help 
those  whom  he  had  left  away  in  Pennsylvania- 
He  remained  in  this  office  fourteen  months,  when  its 
business  declining,  he  found  employment  with  Colo 
nel  Porter  in  conducting  a  new  paper — the  "  Spirit 
of  the  Times  " — for  which  he  wrote  a  world  of  arti 
cles  of  various  character  and  length.  The  following 
humorous  epistle  was  thought  exceedingly  funny  at 
the  time ;  it  was  written  in  May,  1832  : 

"  Messrs.  Editors  : — Hear  me  you  shall,  pity  me  you  must, 
while  I  proceed  to  give  a  short  account  of  the  dread  calami 
ties  which  this  vile  habit  of  turning  the  city  upside  down,  'tother 
side  out,  and  wrong  side  before,  on  the  first  of  May.  has 
brought  down  on  my  devoted  head. 

"  You  must  know,  that  having  resided  but  a  few  months  in 
your  city,  I  was  totally  ignorant  of  the  existence  of  said  cus 
tom.  So,  on  the  morning  of  the  eventful,  and  to  me  disas- 


336  MODERN    AGITATOKS. 

trous  day,  I  arose,  according  to  immemorial  usage,  at  the  dy 
ing  away  of  the  last  echo  of  the  breakfast  bell,  and  soon  found 
myself  seated  over  my  coffee,  and  my  good  landlady  exerci 
sing  her  powers  of  volubility  (no  weak  ones)  apparently  in  my 
behalf;  but  so  deep  was  the  reverie  in  which  my  half  awakened 
brain  was  then  engaged,  that  I  did  not  catch  a  single  idea  from 
the  whole  of  her  discourse.  I  smiled,  and  said  '  Yes  ma'am,' 
'  certainly,  ma'am, '  at  each  pause ;  and  having  speedily 
despatched  my  breakfast,  sallied  immediately  out,  and  pro 
ceeded  to  attend  to  the  business  which  engrossed  my  mind. 
Dinner  time  came,  but  no  time  for  dinner  ;  and  it  was  late  be 
fore  I  was  at  liberty  to  wend  my  way  over  wheelbarrows,  bar 
rels,  and  all  manner  of  obstructions,  toward  my  boarding  house. 
All  here  was  still ;  but  by  the  help  of  my  night-keys,  I  soon 
introduced  myself  to  my  chamber,  dreaming  of  nothing  but 
sweet  repose  ;  when,  horrible  to  relate  !  my  ears  were  instan 
taneously  saluted  with  a  most  piercing  female  shriek,  proceed 
ing  exactly  from  my  own  bed,  or  at  least  from  the  place  where 
it  should  have  been  ;  and  scarcely  had  sufficient  time  elapsed 
for  my  hair  to  bristle  on  my  head,  before  the  shriek  was  an 
swered  by  the  loud  vociferations  of  a  surly  mastiffin  the  kitchen 
beneath,  and  reechoed  by  the  outcries  of  half  a  dozen  inmates 
of  the  house,  and  these  again  were  succeeded  by  the  rattle  of 
the  watchman  ;  and  the  next  moment,  there  was  a  round  dozen 
of  them  (besides  the  dog)  at  my  throat,  and  commanding  me 
to  tell  them  instantly  what  the  devil  all  this  meant. 

" '  You  do  well  to  ask  that,'  said  I,  as  soon  as  I  could  speak, 
4 after  falling  upon  me  in  this  fashion  in  my  own  chamber.' 

u '  O  take  him  off,'  said  the  one  who  assumed  to  be  the  mas- 


HORACE    GREELEY.  337 

ter  of  the  house,  '  perhaps  he  is  not  a  thief  after  all ;  but  being 
too  tipsy  for  starlight,  he  has  made  a  mistake  in  trying  to  find 
his  lodgings ; ' — and  in  spite  of  all  my  remonstrances,  I  was 
forthwith  marched  off  to  the  watch-house,  to  pass  the  remain 
der  of  the  night.  In  the  morning  I  narrowly  escaped  commit 
ment  on  the  charge  of  '  burglary,  with  intent  to  steal,  (I  verily 
believe  it  would  have  gone  hard  with  me,  if  the  witnesses 
could  have  been  got  there  at  that  unseasonable  hour,)  and  I  was 
finally  discharged,  with  a  solemn  admonition  to  guard,  for  the 
future,  against  intoxication.  (Think  of  that,  sir,  for  a  mem 
ber  of  the  cold  water  society !) 

"  I  spent  the  next  day  in  unraveling  the  mystery ;  and  found 
that  my  landlord  had  removed  his  goods  and  chattels  to  an 
other  part  of  the  city,  on  the  established  day,  supposing  me  to 
be  previously  acquainted  and  satisfied  with  his  intention  of  so 
doing,  and  another  family  had  immediately  taken  his  place ; 
of  which  changes  my  absence  of  mind  and  absence  from  rny 
dinner  had  kept  me  ignorant ;  and  thus  had  I  been  led  blind 
fold  into  a  '  Comedy  (or  rather  tragedy)  of  Errors.' 

"  Your  unfortunate,  TIMOTHY  WIGGINS." 

In  November,  1832,  he  went  to  work  for  Mr.  Red- 
field,  who  then  was  engaged  in  the  stereotyping  busi 
ness.  Mr.  R.  remarked  in  him  the  same  untiring  ac 
tivity  that  has  made  so  prominent  a  feature  in  his 
character.  "He  earned  more,"  said  Mr.  Redfield, 
"  than  any  other  man  in  the  office,  notwithstanding 
which  he  could  talk  all  the  time."  At  this  time  there 

were  no  cheap  daily  papers  published  in  New  York, 
O  22 


338  MODE1IN    AGITATORS. 

or  in  the  United  States.  Almost  the  only  one,  in  fact, 
was  a  heavy,  dull  thing,  taken  by  merchants  at  ten 
dollars  a  year  ;  it  was  about  this  period  that  Dr.  Shep- 
pard  conceived  the  idea  of  starting  a  cheap  daily, 
and  the  project  seemed  as  ridiculous  to  the  printers 
of  New  York,  as  did  the  idea  of  using  steam  as  a 
means  of  locomotion,  or  lightning  as  an  agent  for 
running  errands  for  all  mankind.  The  originator  of 
the  penny  paper  project  got  little  encouragement, 
and  finally  determined  to  start  it  himself.  He  per 
suaded  Mr.  Story — the  foreman  of  the  "  Spirit  of  the 
Times  " — and  Horace  Greeley  to  associate  with  him 
in  its  publication  and  editorial  management.  Mr. 
Greeley  was  not  very  sanguine  in  regard  to  its  suc 
cess,  for  he  thought  that  a  daily  could  not  sustain  it 
self  at  a  less  price  than  two  cents.  However,  the 
new  firm  of  Greeley  &  Story,  with  the  limited  capi 
tal  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  issued,  on  the 
first  of  January,  1833,  the  Morning  Post.  That  pa 
per  lived  about  two  and  a  half  weeks,  long  enough, 
however,  to  convince  Mr.  Greeley  that  his  first  im 
pression  was  correct,  viz  :  that  with  a  fair  capital  a 
first  rate  daily  would  be  sustained  at  two  cents.  Al 
though  the  paper  was  discontinued,  the  firm  held  to 
gether,  doing  printing  and  job  work,  and  among  the 
rest  a  great  deal  of  lottery  advertising.  Their  busi 
ness  increased,  till  by  an  unfortunate  casualty  Mr. 
Story  lost  his  life,  and  the  name  of  the  firm  was 


nORACE  GREELET.  333 

changed  to  Greeley  &  Co.,  Jonas  Winchester  having 
taken  the  place  of  the  deceased  partner.  In  1834 
the  firm  included  also  a  third  partner,  Mr.  E.  Libbett, 
and  was  considered  worth  three  thousand  dollars. 
They  resolved  to  commence  a  weekly  paper,  and,  as 
the  result  of  their  deliberation*,  appeared  the  New 
Yorker.  An  interesting  circumstance  mentioned  by 
Mr.  Greeley  is,  that  at  about  this  date  James  Gordon 
Bennett  applied  to  him  to  start  a  daily  paper,  in  com 
pany  with  him,  but  for  some  reason  Mr.  Greeley  de 
clined,  and  Bennett,  with  another  partner,  commenced 
the  issue  of  the  Herald. 

It  was  with  the  New  Yorker  that  Mr.  Greeley 's 
career  as  an  editor  really  commenced.  It  may  not 
be  amiss  here  to  review  and  notice  the  origin  of  those 
political  and  religious  opinions  which  have  formed 
so  prominent  characteristics  of  the  man,  and  which 
justly  or  unjustly  have  associated  his  name  with 
nearly  all  the  "  isms  "  of  the  last  twenty  years.  His 
parents  were  neither  of  them  church-members,  though 
they  were  considered  as  belonging  to  the  orthodox 
faith ;  they  were  moral,  went  to  church  with  their 
children  when  they  lived  near  enough,  and  were 
strict  in  their  observance  of  the  Sabbath.  While  at 
"Westhaven,  Vermont,  Horace  begun  to  reflect  upon 
the  diversity  of  creeds  ;  at  the  age  of  twelve  he  wa 
vered  in  opinion  in  regard  to  the  justice  of  eternal 
punishment ;  and  at  fourteen  had  a  preference  for  the 


340  MODERN    AGITATOKS. 

doctrine  of  universal  salvation.  Having  read  the 
history  of  Demetrius  Poliocrates,  prince  of  Athens, 
he  was  overcome  with  admiration  at  his  benevolence 
in  the  treatment  of  the  Athenians,  for  the  vilest  in 
gratitude,  and  he  involuntarily  asked  himself,  "  If  a 
mortal  prince  can  be  thus  generous  and  forgiving  for 
the  greatest  possible  sins,  shall  not  the  infinite  God 
pardon  the  transgressions  of  his  frail  and  erring  crea 
tures  ?  Can  he  see  them  exposed  to  endless  punish 
ment  ?  "  From  that  hour  his  confidence  in  these  the 
ories  decreased,  and  he  has  never  yet  seen  sufficient 
evidence  in  their  favor  to  induce  him  to  accept  them 
as  his  creed.  Such  were  some  of  the  influences  that 
made  him  a  Universalist. 

The  theory  of  protection  to  American  manufac 
tures  was  the  great  burden  of  President  Monroe's 
message  in  1821.  Horace  was  then  in  "Westhaven, 
and  in  the  exciting  debates  upon  the  subject  he  took 
a  deep  and  unusual  interest.  Many  and  brilliant 
were  the  events  then  occurring  throughout  the  world, 
to  engross  the  attention  of  the  young  politician.  The 
South  American  republics  were  recognized  as  inde- 
dependent  governments.  In  our  country,  Lafayette 
was  the  great  theme  of  attention.  Clay,  Adams,  and 
Jackson  were  making  their  most  splendid  efforts  in 
congress.  Horace  became  an  ardent  admirer  of  the 
brilliant  talents  of  Henry  Clay,  and  learned  to  dis 
trust  the  pretensions  of  the  so-called  "  democratic 


HORACE  GREELEY.  34:1 

party."     In  the  presidential  campaign  of  182-i,  he  ac 
knowledges,  in  a  later  editorial,  a  deep  interest.     Ho 
says,  "  A\re  were  but  thirteen  when  this  took  place, 
but  we  looked  on  very  earnestly,  without  prejudice, 
and  tried  to  look  beyond  the  mere  names  by  which 
the  contending  parties  were  called.     Could  we  doubt 
that  democracy  was  on  one  side  and  the  democratic 
party  on  the  other?"     From  this  time  forward  he 
had  a  great  desire  to  become  well  versed  in  politics. 
Political  papers,  political  articles  and  leaders  were 
his  delight.     He  used  to  get  copies  of  the  old  Rich 
mond  Enquirer,  and  devour,  with  the  greatest  avid 
ity,  its  laborious  political  editorials  and  communica 
tions.     He  acquired  the  habit  of  putting  his  thoughts 
in  type  without  the  immediate  use  of  ink  and  paper, 
and  in  this  manner  also  acquired  the  invaluable  art  of 
writing  good  articles  quickly.     While  at  work  upon 
the  Jackson  paper  at  Lodi,  he  was  thinking  of  and 
hoping  for  the  success  of  the  antagonistic  party.    He 
says,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  "You  are  aware  that  an 
important  election  is  close  at  hand  in  this  state,  and 
of  course  a  great  deal  of  interest  is  felt  in  the  result. 
The  regular  Jacksonians  think  they  will  elect  Throop 
by  twenty  thousand  majority ;  but  having  obtained 
all  the  information  I  can,  I  give  it  as  my  decided 
opinion  that  if  none  of  the  candidates  decline,  we 
shall  elect  Francis  Granger  governor.     I  need  not  in 
form  you  that  such  a  result  will  be  highly  satisfac- 


342  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

tory  to  jour  humble  servant."  Such  were  some  of 
the  influences  that  made  him  a  whig. 

"While  in  New  York,  and  soon  after  the  death  of 
Mr.  Francis  Story,  Mr.  Greeley  attended  the  lectures 
of  Dr.  Graham.  His  doctrines  were  at  that  time  ma 
king  considerable  noise  in  New  York  and  through 
the  country.  Every  one  is  informed  of  his  peculiar 
theory  and  its  probable  correctness ;  suffice  it  to  say 
that  his  doctrines  struck  Mr.  Greeley  as  being  sound, 
and  he  embraced  them,  practically  as  well  as  in  the 
ory.  It  is  true  that  he  had  never  been  addicted  to 
the  use  of  stimulants  ;  that  he  had  always  cherished 
a  hearty  disgust  for  tobacco  and  alcohol ;  that  he  was 
a  natural  teetotaler ;  but  he  now  discarded  the  over 
nutritious  diet,  and  in  its  stead  substituted  the  plain 
fare  of  Dr.  Graham. 

While  describing  his  boyhood  we  alluded  to  his 
distaste  for  the  usual  amusements  so  much  relished 
by  children.  As  he  grew  older  the  aversion  grew 
stronger,  and  we  do  not  find  that  he  ever  cared  for 
any  games  but  checkers  and  whist.  At  the  first, 
where  there  is  a  chance  for  much  display  of  skill,  he 
was  a  fine  player ;  at  the  second,  he  now  and  then 
took  a  hand  with  his  fellow-apprentices,  but  never 
seems  to  have  lost  much  time  with  it.  Through  all 
his  early  life  we  find  no  mention  made  of  any  partic 
ular  devotion  to  the  fair  sex.  He  never  was  foppish 
enough  to  suit  their  tastes,  or  dutiful  enough  to  mind 


HORACE  GREELEY.  343 

their  whims.  He  never  felt  that  he  had  much  time 
or  money  to  bestow  upon  them  gratuitously,  and  un 
less  a  young  man  has  considerable  of  both,  he  will 
not  be  much  of  a  favorite  with  them.  He  was  fond 
of  poetry,  and  occasionally  published  a  poem  over  his 
initials.  Under  date  of  May  31st,  183-i,  we  discover 
the  only  one  which  indicates  any  breathings  of  the 
tender  passion.  It  is  interesting,  in. that  it  betrays 
the  consciousness  he  seems  to  have  had  of  his  eccen 
tricities,  and  of  the  estimate  which  the  world  placed 
upon  him,  and,  if  there  be  any  truth  in  poetry,  also 
reveals  somewhat  the  reciprocal  esteem  which  he 
cherished  toward  the  world.  It  is  entitled — 

FANTASIES. 

THEY  deem  me  cold,  the  thoughtless  and  light-hearted, 

In  that  I  worship  not  at  beauty's  shrine  ; 
They  deem  me  cold,  that  through  the  years  departed, 

I  ne'er  have  bowed  me  to  some  form  divine. 
They  deem  me  proud,  that,  where  the  world  hath  flattered, 

I  ne'er  have  knelt  to  languish  or  adore; 
They  think  not  that  the  homage  idly  scattered, 

Leaves  the  heart  bankrupt  ere  its  spring  is  o'er. 

No!  in  my  soul  there  glows  but  one  bright  vision, 

And  o'er  my  heart  there  rules  but  one  fond  spell, 
Bright'ning  my  hours  of  sleep  with  dreams  elysian 

Of  one  unseen,  yet  loved,  aye  cherished  well; 
Unseen?  ah!  no;  her  presence  round  me  lingers, 

Chasing  each  wayward  thought  that  tempts  to  rove ; 
"Weaving  affection's  web  with  fairy  fingers, 

And  waking  thoughts  of  purity  and  love. 


344:  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

Star  of  my  heaven !     *         *         *         ' 


He  bids  a  final  farewell  to  the  muse  in  a  poem 
which  appeared  in  the  Literary  Messenger,  in  1840. 
Here  is  the  last  verse  : 

"Yet  mourn  not  I — a  stern,  high  duty 

Now  nerves  my  heart  and  fires  my  brain 
Perish  the  dream  of  shapes  of  beauty, 

So  that  this  strife  be  not  in  vain ; 
To  war  on  fraud  entrenched  with  power — 

On  smooth  pretense  and  specious  wrong — 
This  task  be  mine,  though  fortune  lower; 

For  this  be  banished  sky  and  song." 

After  this  digression,  which  we  have  made  in  order 
to  trace  in  a  connected  manner  his  early  religious, 
political,  poetical,  and  social  or  unsocial  tendencies, 
we  return  to  where  we  left  our  hero  on  the  eve  of 
commencing  the  publication  of  the  New  Yorker. 
This  was  in  the  spring  of  the  year  1834.  The  first 
number  was  issued  on  the  22d  of  March.  He  had 
fifteen  pledged  subscribers,  and  the  first  number  sold 
one  hundred  copies.  In  the  address  to  the  public, 
contained  in  the  first  issue,  we  find  the  following  pas 
sage,  which  we  take  the  liberty  to  quote,  because  it 
shows  the  principles  with  which  Horace  Greeley 
started  his  career  as  an  editor — principles  to  which 
almost  alone  he  has  faithfully  adhered  : 


HORACE  GREELEY.  OJO 

"  There  is  one  disadvantage  attending  our  debut,  \vltich  is 
seldom  encountered  in  the  outset  of  periodicals  aspiring  to 
general  popularity  and  patronage.  Ours  is  not  blazoned 
through  the  land  as  'The  cheapest  periodical  in  the  world,' 
*  The  largest  paper  ever  published,'  or  any  of  the  captivating 
claptraps  wherewith  enterprising  gentlemen,  possessed  of  a 
convenient  stock  of  assurance,  are  wont  to  usher  in  their 
successive  experiments  on  the  gullibility  of  the  public. 
No  likenesses  of  eminent  and  favorite  authors  will  embel 
lish  our  title,  while  they  disdain  to  write  for  our  columns. 
No  'distinguished  literary  and  fashionable  characters'  have 
been  dragged  in  to  bolster  up  a  rigmarole  of  preposter 
ous  and  charlatan  pretensions.  And,  indeed,  so  serious  is 
the  deficiency  that  the  first  (we  may  say  the  only)  objection 
which  has  been  started  by  our  most  judicious  friends,  in  the 
discussion  of  our  plans  and  prospects,  has  invariably  been 
this :  '  You  do  not  indulge  sufficiently  in  high-sounding  pre 
tensions.  You  cannot  succeed  without  humbug.'1  Our  answer 
has  constantly  been — '  loe  shall  try  ;  '  and,  in  the  spirit  of  this 
determination,  we  respectfully  solicit  of  our  fellow-citizens  the 
extension  of  that  share  of  patronage  which  they  shall  deem 
warranted  by  our  performances  rather  than  our  promises." 

The  average  gain  of  the  New  Yorker  was  more 
than  one  hundred  a  week.  In  less  than  five  months 
it  had  a  circulation  of  two  thousand  five  hundred. 
The  second  volume  commenced  with  four  thousand 
five  hundred  subscribers.  This  was  Horace  Gree- 
ley's  first  success,  and  from  this  time  forward  he  be- 
O* 


34C  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

came  known  and  appreciated  among  the  literary 
ranks,  as  a  spicy  and  successful  editor. 

The  New  Yorker  gradually  became  a  political  pa 
per,  and  its  statistical  information  was  always  to  be 
relied  upon.  Mr.  Greeley  has  always  been  exceed 
ingly  exact  in  his  reports,  never  allowing  his  hopes 
to  take  the  place  of  facts  in  his  paper.  It  is  the  re 
mark  of  a  proof-reader —  "If  there  is  anything  that 
will  make  Horace  furious,  it  is  to  have  a  name  spelled 
wrong,  or  a  mistake  in  election  returns."  Mr.  Gree 
ley  was  at  this  time  a  supporter  of  the  colonization 
scheme,  and  leaned  to  the  opinion  that,  in  existing 
disputes  between  the  north  and  south,  the  north  was 
the  aggressor.  He  maintained  this  ground  with  great 
vigor  in  the  numerous  editorials  of  that  day. 

The  firm  of  Greeley  &  Co.  continued  on  with  appa 
rently  increasing  success,  until,  in  October,  1837,  its 
financial  affairs  were  in  rather  a  tottering  condition. 
Mr.  Greeley  labored  with  most  indefatigable  energy 
to  keep  it  afloat,  although  in  five  years,  seven  copart 
ners  had  entered  and  left  the  concern.  A  single  par 
agraph  from  Mr.  Greeley's  pen  reveals  the  reason  of 
his  ill  success  : 

"  Probably  we  lack  the  elements  of  that  very  desirable  kind  of 
success.  There  have  been  errors,  mismanagements,  and  losses  in 
the  conduct  of  our  business.  We  mean  that  we  lack,  or  do 
not  take  kindly  to,  the  arts  which  contribute  to  a  newspaper 
sensation.  When  our  journal  first  appeared,  a  hundred  copies 


HORACE  GKEELEY.  347 

marked  the  extent  to  which  the  public  curiosity  claimed  its  pe 
rusal.  Others  establish  newspapers  even  without  literary  rep 
utation,  as  we  were,  and  five  or  ten  thousand  copies  are  taken 
at  once — just  to  see  what  the  new  thing  is.  And  thence  they 
career  onward  on  the  crest  of  a  towering  wave.  *  *  *  * 
'  You  don't  humbug  enough,'  has  been  the  complaint  of  more 
than  one  of  our  retiring  associates ;  *  you  ought  to  make  more 
noise,  and  vaunt  your  own  merits ;  the  world  will  never  be 
lieve  you  print  a  good  paper  unless  you  tell  them  so.'  Our 
course  has  not  been  changed  by  these  representations." 

One  great  defect,  however,  in  the  paper  was  that 
the  business  department  wanted  an  able  manager, 
and  Mr.  Greeley  was  too  confiding,  honest,  and  gen 
erous  to  be  that  man.  However  delinquent  his  sub 
scribers  might  be,  he  always  paid  roundly  and  prompt 
ly  for  every  piece  of  work  done  for  him.  If  he  hired 
an  article  written,  and  the  author  did  not  charge  as 
much  as  Greeley  thought  it  worth,  he  would  make 
up  the  amount  gratuitously.  Such  generosity  may 
be  noble,  but  not  successful,  in  a  world  like  this. 
Toward  the  close  of  his  connection  with  the  New 
Yorker,  he  was  for  months  on  the  verge  of  bankrupt 
cy,  and  was  terribly  harassed  by  pecuniary  difficulties. 
When  just  ready  to  abandon  the  paper,  Mr.  D.  S. 
Gregory  offered  him  assistance,  and  Greeley  survived 
another  year,  to  battle  with  hard  times  and  delin 
quent  subscribers.  Park  Benjamin,  who  contributed 


d40  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

to  his  literary  department  at  this  time,  paid  Mr.  Gree 
ley  the  following  tribute  of  esteem,  upon  leaving  it : 

Grateful  to  my  feelings  has  been  my  intercourse  with  the 
readers  of  the  New  Yorker,  and  with  its  principal  editor  and 
proprietor.  By  the  former  I  hope  my  humble  efforts  will  not 
be  unremembered ;  by  the  latter,  I  am  happy  to  believe  that 
the  sincere  friendship  which  1  entertain  for  him  is  reciprocated 
I  still  insist  upon  my  editorial  right  so  far  as  to  say,  in  opposi 
tion  to  any  veto  which  my  coadjutor  may  interpose,  that  1  can 
not  leave  the  association  which  has  been  so  agreeable  to  me, 
without  paying  to  sterling  worth,  unbending  integrity,  high 
moral  principle,  and  ready  kindness,  their  just  due.  These 
qualities  exist  in  the  character  of  the  man  with  whom  now  I 
part ;  and  by  all  to  whom  such  qualities  may  appear  admira 
ble,  must  such  a  character  be  esteemed." 

Henry  J.  Raymond,  now  the  editor  of  the  New 
York  Daily  Times,  commenced  his  literary  career  at 
eight  dollars  per  week,  under  Horace  Greeley.  He 
was  a  fine,  rapid  writer,  and  was  destined  for  a  more 
prominent  position  than  sub-editor  of  any  paper.  He 
was  then  a  recent  graduate  from  college. 

The  weekly  labors  of  Mr.  Greeley  included,  besides 
the  work  upon  the  New  Yorker,  the  editing  of  the 
Jcffersonian,  a  weekly  paper,  published  in  Albany, 
through  the  campaign  of  1838.  Either  of  these  was 
enough  for  a  man  of  ordinary  writing  abilities,  but 
Mr.  Greeley  attempted  and  succeeded  tolerably  well 


HORACE  GREELEY.  349 

with  both.  It  was,  however,  only  by  the  greatest  exer 
tions,  for  the  traveling  of  that  day  was  not  what  it  is 
at  present. 

Horace  Greeley  was  one  of  the  principal  leading 
working  spirits,  by  whose  incessant  efforts  the  elec 
tion  of  General  Harrison,  in  1840,  was  accomplished. 
In  May  he  commenced  the  issue  of  the  Log  Cabin, 
the  first  edition  of  which  sold  twenty  thousand  copies, 
as  soon  as  they  were  struck  off.  Another  edition  was 
printed,  and  another,  until  fifty  thousand  copies  had 
been  disposed  of.  It  was  a  remarkable  hit.  Seven 
hundred  subscribers  were  added  daily,  until  the 
weekly  issue  was  over  ninety  thousand.  Such  suc 
cess  was  as  little  anticipated  as  prepared  for,  and  it 
caused  so  much  extra  work  and  expense,  for  so  short 
a  time,  that  but  little  money  was  made  from  it.  Sub 
scribers  who  had  sent  in  their  names  in  the  excite 
ment  preceding  the  election,  were  exceedingly  tardy 
about  paying  up.  As  a  final  result,  it  was  continued 
in  a  weekly  form,  until  it  and  the  New  Yorker  were 
merged  in  the  Tribune. 

Mr.  Greeley  was  now  utterly  absorbed  in  politics. 
It  is  related  of  him  that  he  became  frequently  so  en 
grossed  in  argument  as  to  lose  all  consciousness  of 
events  transpiring  immediately  about  him.  It  even 
happened  that  he  could  not  tell  whether  or  not  he 
had  been  to  dinner,  and  had  to  ascertain  the  fact  by 
inquiring  of  the  hands  in  the  office.  A  good  anec- 


£50  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

dote  and  true,  is  told  of  his  being  invited  to  tnke  tea 
at  the  house  of  a  friend,  when  some  political  subject 
being  introduced  as  the  theme  of  conversation,  he 
defended  one  side  with  great  warmth.  While  per 
fectly  absorbed  in  the  discussion,  the  lady  of  the 
house  repeatedly  invited  him  to  tea,  but  he  heard  no 
more  of  the  invitation  than  if  it  had  been  whispered 
in  the  street.  She  finally  brought  in  a  basket  of 
"  crullers,"  or  "  doughnuts,"  as  they  are  called  in 
some  sections,  and  offered  him  one.  All  uncon 
sciously  he  took  the  basket  into  his  lap,  and  went  on 
with  his  remarks.  Gradually  his  hand  wandered  to 
the  basket,  took  up  a  cake  mechanically,  and  con 
veyed  it  to  his  mouth  ;  bit  by  bit  it  disappeared,  and 
then  another,  till  the  last  was  gone  !  The  lady  of  the 
house  was  now  thoroughly  alarmed,  and  having  heard 
that  cheese  was  an  excellent  antidote  in  such  a  case, 
she  passed  him  a  plate  that  he  might  eat  a  piece. 
Still  busily  engaged  in  the  merits  of  the  question,  he 
took  the  plate  into  his  hand,  and  piece  by  piece,  by 
the  same  abstracted  process,  the  cheese  followed  the 
cakes!  No  ill  consequences  ensued,  nor  was  Mr. 
Greeley  conscious  of  having  taken  any  food. 

For  his  service  in  this  campaign,  Mr.  Greeley  re 
ceived  nothing  but  the  splendid  reputation  he  ob 
tained  as  a  fast  and  forcible  writer.  He  had  now  on 
his  hands  the  Log  Cabin  and  the  New  Yorker  ;  these 
he  resolved  to  merge  into  one  paper,  and  concentrate 


HORACE  GBEELEY.  351 

upon  its  editorial  department  all  the  intellectual  abil 
ity  lie  could  command.  He  had  saved  as  yet  but  lit 
tle  money,  but  he  had  the  credit  of  an  honest  man, 
and  the  repute  of  a  very  able  one.  With  these,  and  a 
thousand  dollars  from  Mr.  Gregory,  whom  we  have 
before  alluded  to,  he  resolved  to  start  anew,  and  the 
result  was  the  New  York  Tribune.  He  made  an  ar 
rangement  with  Mr.  McElrath,  a  lawyer,  who  was 
capitally  fitted  to  manage  the  business  department  of 
a  news  journal.  The  amount  of  work  which  Mr. 
Greeley  accomplished  was  astonishingly  great.  His 
energy  was  almost  superhuman.  He  applied  himself 
closely  every  day  from  fifteen  to  eighteen  hours— 
and  oftener  the  latter  than  the  former.  Under  the 
editorship  of  such  an  indefatigable  man  the  Tribune 
could  but  thrive.  It  rose  in  circulation,  and  in  the 
estimation  of  the  people  rapidly.  Men  who  bitterly 
opposed  its  politics  conceded  its  eminent  ability.  It 
was  the  leading  journal  of  the  whig  party.  It  also 
advocated  various  beneficent  reforms.  We  by  no 
means  defend  the  political  course  of  that  journal, 
while  it  was  a  party  organ.  While  the  Tribune  was 
a  whig  journal,  it  was  probably  hated  more  intensely 
by  its  enemies  than  any  other  American  journal. 
The  eminent  abilities  of  Mr.  Greeley  could  not  be 
vigorously  used  for  party  purposes,  without  drawing 
down  upon  him  the  hatred  of  thousands.  Few  men 
have  been  more  abused  than  he  ;  few  more  execrated 


352  MODEKN   AGITATORS. 

than  be  by  opposing  politicians.  It  is  easy  enough 
to  see  why.  He  writes  nervously,  graphically,  in 
tensely.  He  has  no  soft  words  for  an  enemy,  but 
blurts  out  what  he  conceives  to  be  the  truth,  as  an 
Indian  tomahawks  a  white  man.  His  vast  energy, 
combined  with  his  splendid  writing  talent,  disposes 
him  to  annihilate  an  opposer.  He  has  withal  a  ca 
pability,  we  think,  for  unjust  prejudices  against  an 
enemy.  This  was  the  case  when  he  was  younger, 
but  of  late  they  seem  to  have  died  out  of  his  heart. 
But,  though  as  a  writer  Mr.  Greeley  is  always  impet 
uous,  he  is  by  nature  cautious — almost  cunning.  Thus 
some  of  his  political  movements  seem  to  his  political 
enemies  to  have  been  prompted  by  cunning.  We 
think,  however,  notwithstanding  all  the  suspicious 
political  moves  which  he  has  made  in  the  past,  that 
few  honester  men  ever  sat  in  the  chair-editorial.  lie 
is  one  of  the  most  earnest  men  of  the- age.  There  is 
nothing  stagnant  in  his  nature.  He  is  decided,  fixed, 
in  his  opinions. 

The  opposition  which  the  Tribune  received  from 
the  New  York  Sim  was  bitter  and  lasting.  Every 
means  that  could  be  used,  fair  or  unfair,  were  tried 
to  prevent  the  Tribune  from  supplanting  that  paper. 
In  it  appeared  the  most  scurrilous  articles,  with  the 
manifest  intention  of  "crushing  out"  the  Tribune; 
farther  even  than  this;,  the  attempt  was  made  to  hin 
der  the  sale  by  direct  violence.  Fights  were  prompt- 


HORACE  GFwEELEY.  353 

ed  between  the  newsboys,  by  the  emissaries  of  Beach, 
and  nothing  that  promised  success  was  too  mean  for 
him  to  attempt.  But,  as  when  a  strong,  well  managed 
ship  is  sailing  against  the  wind,  she  moves  fastest 
when  it  blows  hardest,  so  with  the  Tribune,  the  greater 
the  opposition  the  more  rapid  its  progress.  The  pub 
lic  became  interested  in  the  affair,  and  justice  was 
awarded  to  Mr.  Greeley  in  the  increasing  demand 
for  his  paper.  For  the  first  number  there  were  six 
hundred  subscribers,  and  the  editor  remarks  that, — 
"  We  had  some  difficulty  in  giving  away  the  first  edi 
tion."  It  steadily  gained,  however,  in  friends  and 
patronage,  and  during  the  struggle  with  the  Sun  sub 
scribers  poured  in  at  the  rate  of  three  hundred  per 
day.  The  fourth  week  showed  a  circulation  of  six 
thousand,  the  seventh,  eleven  thousand,  while  the  ad 
vertising  business  increased  in  proportion,  although 
the  price  was  raised  from  four  to  six  cents  a  line. 
The  news  department  of  the  Tribune  was  more  accu 
rate  and  prompt  than  that  of  its  adversary.  In  a  cer 
tain  day  the  Sun  informed  the  public  that  "  it  is 
doubtful  whether  the  land  bill  can  pass  the  house  ; " 
the  Tribune  of  the  same  day  announced  the  passage 

of  the  bill !     The  assistance  of  Mr.  McElrath  in  the 

» 

business  department  of  the  paper  was  invaluable, 
since  it  allowed  to  Mr.  Greeley  his  whole  time  upon 
the  writing  and  editorial  management.  His  usual 

day's  work  at  this  period  was  three  columns,  equal 

23 


MODERN   AGITATORS. 

to  fifteen  pages  of  foolscap,  besides  the  arranging, 
clipping,  &c. 

Upon  the  subject  of  protection  to  American  indus 
try  Mr.  Greeley  wrote  repeatedly,  and  with  great  en 
ergy.  After  reading  his  able  articles  upon  that  sub 
ject,  one  can  hardly  fail  to  be  convinced  of  the  just 
ness  of  his  views.  He  advocated  the  subject,  not 
solely  because  it  was  a  whig  measure,  but  because  it 
seemed  to  him  correct  and  best  for  the  interests  of 
tiie  country  at  large.  Nevertheless,  he  was,  at  this 
period,  a  zealous,  earnest,  almost  bigoted  supporter 
of  the  whig  policy  and  whig  administration.  He  ha 
ted  and  fought  the  doctrine  of  repudiation  with  tell 
ing  energy.  He  supported  John  Tyler  till  he  per 
ceived  that  Tyler  was  selling  himself  and  the  whig 
party  to  locofocoism,  and  then  he  opposed  him  with 
all  his  might. 

The  history  of  the  Tribune  hereafter  was  the  his 
tory  of  Mr.  Greeley.  It  began  its  second  year  with 
a  circulation  of  twelve  thousand  subscribers,  and  an 
average  daily  support  of  thirteen  columns  of  advertise 
ments.  In  writing  the  subsequent  history  of  its  edi 
tor,  we  ;  shall  most  conveniently,  almost  necessarily, 
follow  the  track  of  the  Tribune  down  to  the  present 
time,  and,  advancing,  glance  at  the  doctrines  it  sus 
tained,  and  the  theories  it  supported.  The  first  to  be 
noticed  is  Fouricrism.  At  the  time  when  this  sub 
ject  became  a  theme  of  discussion  in  this  country, 


HORACE  GREELEY.  355 

Horace  Greeley  was  a  young  man  of  twenty-six,  who, 
from  poverty,  had  struggled  up  to  a  competence  only 
by  the  most  arduous  exertion.  He  knew  by  bitter 
experience  what  it  was  to  be  miserably  poor  ;  he  had 
gone  through  a  long  course  of  training  in  the  school 
of  adversity,  and  was  in  every  way  qualified  to  sym 
pathize  with  his  schoolmates  under  the  iron  discipline 
of  that  stern  tutor.  It  was  not  in  Greeley  to  look 
upon  destitution  and  misery  without  commiseration, 
nor  was  he  willing  that  his  sympathy  should  end  un 
til  the  means  of  relief  were  discovered  and  applied. 
New  York  was  a  vast  theater  for  the  display  of  hu 
manity  and  kindness,  and  never  more  so  than  during 
the  winter  of  1837— 8.  Food  and  provisions  were  high, 
fuel  scarce,  the  cold  weather  unusually  protracted  and 
severe.  Business  of  all  kinds  was  at  a  stand-still,  la 
borers  were  thrown  out  of  employment  by  thousands, 
and  crowds  of  hungry  men,  women,  and  children 
went  famishing  through  the  streets.  The  picture  was 
a  most  melancholy  one,  well  calculated  to  inspire  the 
energies  of  a  humane  disposition.  What  could  be 
done  to  relieve  the  distress  of  these  perishing  thou 
sands  ?  There  was  wealth  enough  ;  there  was  enough 
in  New  York,  and  Greeley  knew  it ;  theirs  was  the 
want,  there  the  supply.  Could  not  some  plan  be  de 
vised  by  which  they  could  be  brought  together? 
In  this  emergency,  Albert  Brisbane,  a  liberally  edu 
cated  young  man,  the  son  of  wealthy  parents,  re- 


356  MODERN  AGITATOR?. 

turned  from  Paris,  where  the  doctrines  of  Fourier 
was  the  theme  of  universal  discussion.  Brisbane  was 
fascinated  by  the  great  beauty  and  apparent  feasibil 
ity  of  these  doctrines,  and  attributed  the  want  of  suc 
cess  in  Europe  to  the  form  ^of  government,  and  the 
utter  ignorance  and  degradation  of  the  masses.  He 
thought  that  if  transplanted  to  free,  progressive  Amer 
ica,  they  would  operate  like  a  charm.  Full  of  his 
new  enthusiasm,  he  returned  to  New  York,  and  com 
menced  lecturing  on  the  subject.  Greeley  heard 
him  ;  the  remedy  seemed  adapted  to  the  want ;  he 
espoused  the  cause,  and  in  the  Tribune  earnestly  ad 
vocated  the  adoption  of  the  experiment.  A  very 
brief  glance  at  the  leading  principles  of  these  social 
reformers  is  given  in  a  Tribune  of  November,  1841. 
He  says : 

"  We  have  written  something,  and  shall  yet  write  much 
more,  in  illustration  and  advocacy  of  the  great  social  revolu 
tion  which  our  age  is  destined  to  commence,  in  rendering  all 
useful  labor  at  once  attractive  and  honorable,  and  banishing 
want  and  all  consequent  degradation  from  the  globe.  The 
germ  of  this  revolution  is  developed  in  the  writings  of  Charles 
Fourier,  a  philanthropic  and  observing  Frenchman,  who  died 
in  1837,  after  devoting  thirty  years  of  a  studious  and  unobtru 
sive  life  to  inquiries,  at  once  patient  and  profound,  into  the 
causes  of  the  great  mass  of  social  evils  which  overwhelm  hu 
manity,  and  the  true  means  of  removing  them.  These  means 
he  proves  to  be  a  system  of  industrial  and  household  associa- 


HORACE  GREELEY.  357 

tion,  on  the  principle  of  joint  stock  investment,  whereby  labor 
will  be  ennobled  and  rendered  attractive  and  universal,  capital 
be  afforded  a  secure  and  lucrative  investment,  and  talent  and  in 
dustry  find  appropriate,  constant  employment  and  adequate 
reward,  while  plenty,  comfort,  and  the  best  means  of  intellect 
ual  and  moral  improvement  is  guaranteed  to  all,  regardless  of 
former  acquirements  or  conditions." 

An  association  of  gentlemen  was  formed,  wbich 
obtained  the  use  of  a  column  of  the  Dally  Tribune 
upon  the  subject.  Much  attention  was  attracted  to 
the  consideration  of  these  measures  throughout  the 
United  States.  It  met  with  all  kinds  of  opposition, 
was  declared  a  dangerous  innovation,  an  unchristian 
scheme,  and  met  universally  with  great  hostility.  It 
is  always  thus  with  reforms,  whether  social,  religious, 
or  political,  and  the  only  true  test  must  be  actual  ex 
periment  With  a  single  exception  the  "  associa 
tions  "  were  failures,  and  many  worthy  men  suffered 
severely  with  their  everthrow.  Odium  was  cast  upon 
the  originators  of  a  scheme  which,  had  it  been  suc 
cessful,  would  have  made  them  heroes ;  so  great  is 
the  effect  of  success  !  Mr.  Greeley's  part  in  the  dra 
ma  wound  up  wilh  a  discussion  between  himself  and 
Henry  J.  Raymond,  who,  at  the  solicitation  of  Colonel 
Webb,  had  joined  the  Courier  and  Enquirer.  The  dis 
pute  was  prolonged  through  successive  numbers,  and 
both  sides  of  the  argument  were  published  in  both 


358  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

papers.  Since  then,  the  same  sentiments  have  al 
ways  formed  a  prominent  feature  in  Mr.  Greeley's 
opinions,  but  he  seldom  advances  them  in  his  paper, 
unless  to  repel  attacks  which  originate  from  the  at 
tempt  to  vamp  them  up  for  party  capital.  The 
world  is  at  present  too  ungenial,  and  its  soil  too 
uncultivated  to  ripen  so  delicate  a  fruit ;  it  must 
be  deferred  for  full  realization  to  "the  good  time 
coming." 

From  a  penny  paper  the  Tribune  raised  its  price  to 
two  cents,  and  at  this  the  second  volume  commenced 
with  a  list  of  twelve  thousand.  For  interfering  in  a 
local  dispute  in  regard  to  election  returns,  it  was  at 
this  early  period  threatened  with  an  execution  of  mob 
law,  and  had  it  been  carried  out,  the  assailants  would 
have  met  a  wamn  reception.  The  office  was  put  in  a 
state  of  defense,  and  workmen,  compositors,  proof 
readers,  and  all  employed  in  the  office,  except  Mr.  Gree- 
ley,  were  ready  to  meet  the  assault ;  he  remarked  that 
he  thought  no  violence  would  be  attempted,  and  there 
was  none. 

In  the  summer  of  1842,  Mr.  Greeley  sought  a  tempo 
rary  respite  from  the  harrassing  cares  of  editorial  life  in 
traveling.  lie  visited  Washington,  Mount  Vernon, 
Niagara,  and  his  old  home  in  Vermont.  His  style  as  a 
correspondent  is  sometimes  racy,  sometimes  subdued, 
and  always  exceedingly  interesting.  We  copy  the 


HORACE  GREELEY.  359 

following  from  the  account  of  his  visit  to  the  burial 
place  of  Washington: 

"  Slowly,  pensively,  we  turned  our  faces  from  the  rest  of  the 
mighty  dead,  to  the  turmoil  of  the  restless  living — from  the 
solemn,  sublime  repose  of  Mount  Vernon,  to  the  ceaseless  in 
trigues,  the  petty  strifes,  the  ant-hill  bustle  of  the  Federal  City. 
Each  has  its  own  atmosphere  ;  London  and  Mecca  are  not  so  un 
like  as  they.  The  silent,  enshrouding  woods,  the  gleaming, 
majestic  river,  the  bright,  benignant  sky — it  is  fitly  here,  amid 
the  scenes  he  loved  and  hallowed,  that  the  man  who  redeemed 
patriotism  and  liberty  from  the  reproach  which  centuries  of 
designing  knavery  and  hollow  profession  had  cast  upon  them, 
now  calmly  awaits  the  trump  of  the  archangel.  Who  does 
not  rejoice  that  the  original  design  of  removing  his  ashes  to  the 
city  has  never  been  consummated — that  they  lie  where  the  pil 
grim  may  reverently  approach  them,  un vexed  by  the  light 
laugh  of  the  time-killing  worldling,  unannoyed  by  the  vain  or 
vile  scribblings  of  the  thoughtless  or  the  base  1  Thus  may  they 
repose  forever !  that  the  heart  of  the  patriot  may  be  invigora 
ted,  the  hopes  of  the  philanthropist  strengthened  and  his  aims 
exalted,  the  pulse  of  the  American  quickened  and  his  aspira 
tions  purified  by  a  visit  to  Mount  Vernon !  " 

In  reply  to  an  assault  by  Major  Noah,  who  seems 
to  have  indulged  quite  a  disposition  to  provoke  him, 
and  had  published  a  nonsensical  paragraph  charging 
Mr.  Greeley  with  the  crime  of  eating  with  colored 


360  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

persons,  the  editor  of  the  Tribune  wrote  the  following 
cutting  retort : 

« 

"  We  have  never  associated  with  blacks ;  never  eaten  with 
them  ;  and  yet  it  is  quite  probable  that  if  we  had  seen  two 
cleanly,  decent  colored  persons  sitting  down  at  a  second  table 
in  another  room,  just  as  we  were  finishing  our  breakfast,  we 
might  have  gone  away  without  thinking  or  caring  about  the 
matter.  We  choose  our  own  company  in  all  things,  and  that 
of  our  own  race,  but  cherish  little  of  that  spirit  which  for  eigh 
teen  centuries  has  held  the  kindred  of  M.  M.  Noah  accursed 
of  God  and  man,  outlawed  and  outcast,  and  unfit  to  be  the  as 
sociates  of  Christians,  Mussulmen,  or  even  self-respecting  Pa 
gans.  Where  there  are  thousands  who  would  not  eat  with  a 
negro,  there  are  (or  lately  were)  tens  of  thousands  who  would 
not  eat  with  a  Jew.  We  leave  to  such  renegades  as  the  Judge 
of  Israel  the  stirring  up  of  prejudices  and  the  prating  of  the 
'usages  of  society,'  which  over  half  the  world  make  him  an 
abhorrence,  as  they  not  long  since  would  have  done  here.  We 
treat  all  men  according  to  what  they  are,  and  not  whence  they 
spring.  That  he  is  a  knave,  we  think  much  to  his  discredit ; 
that  he  is  a  Jew,  nothing,  however  unfortunate  it  may  be  to 
that  luckless  people." 

The  famous  libel  suits  of  J.  F.  Cooper  against  the 
Tribune  furnish  us  with  the  most  amusing  incidents 
in  the  history  of  that  paper.  Mr.  Cooper  was  at 
tempting  to  sustain  his  waning  reputation  as  a  novel 
ist,  and  revive  the  depreciated  state  of  his  funds,  by 


HORACE  GREELEY.  361 

a  series  of  exceedingly  novel  prosecutions.  One  of 
them  was  against  Mr.  Weed,  the  editor  of  the  Albany 
Evening  Journal.  In  a  letter  to  the  Tribune  respect 
ing  that  trial,  occurs  the  following  passage  which  is 
supposed  to  furnish  the  foundation  for  the  charge : 
"  The  value  of  Mr.  Cooper's  character,  therefore,  has 
been  judicially  ascertained.  It  is  worth  exactly  four 
hundred  dollars." 

Upon  the  issue  of  the  letter  from  which  this  clause 
is  taken,  Fenimore  Cooper  determined  to  commence 
a  suit  against  Horace  Greeley.  He  did  so,  and  for 
the  description  of  the  trial,  &c.,  we  shall  refer  to  the 
Tribu7ie  containing  Mr.  Greeley's  humorous  account 
of  it,  premising  that  Mr.  Greeley  defended  his  case 
in  person.  In  this  account  of  it  he  says : 

"  We  had,  to  the  declaration  against  us,  pleaded  the  general  is 
sue — that  is  not  guilty  of  libeling  Mr.  Cooper,  at  the  same  time 
fully  admitting  that  we  had  published  all  that  he  called  our  li 
bels  on  him,  and  desiring  to  put  in  issue  only  the  fact  of  their 
being  or  not  being  libels,  and  have  the  verdict  turn  on  that  is 
sue.  But  Mr.  Cooper  told  the  jury  (and  we  found  to  our  cost 
that  this  was  New  York  supreme  and  circuit  court  law)  that 
by  pleading  not  guilty  we  had  legally  admitted  ourselves  to  be 
guilty — that  all  that  was  necessary  for  the  plaintiff,  under  that 
plea,  was  to  put  in  our  admission  of  publication,  and  then  the 
jury  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  assess  the  plaintiffs  damages  un 
der  the  direction  of  the  court  In  short,  we  were  made  to  un 
derstand  that  there  was  no  way  under  heaven — we  beg  pardon ; 


362  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

under  New  York  supreme  court  law — in  which  the  editor  of  a 
newspaper  could  plead  to  an  action  for  libel  that  the  matter 
charged  upon  him  as  libelous  was  not  in  its  nature  or  intent  a 
libel,  but  simply  a  statement,  according  to  the  best  of  his  knowl 
edge  and  belief,  of  some  notorious  and  every  way  public  trans 
action,  or  his  own  honest  comments  thereon,  and  ask  the  jury 
to  decide  whether  the  plaintiff's  averments  or  his  answers  thereto 
be  the  truth ! " 

His  closing  address  to  the  jury  contained  so  much 
of  manly  eloquence  and  has  so  important  a  bearing 
on  the  freedom  of  the  press,  that  our  readers  cannot 
fail  to  admire  it ;  he  continues  : 

"  But,  gentlemen,  you  are  bound  to  consider — you  cannot  re 
fuse  to  consider — that  if  you  condemn  me  to  pay  any  sum 
whatever  for  the  expression  of  my  opinion  upon  his  conduct,  you 
thereby  seal  your  own  lips,  with  those  of  your  neighbors  and 
countrymen,  against  any  such  expression  in  this  or  any  other 
case;  you  will  no  longer  have  a  right  to  censure  the  rich  man 
who  harasses  his  poor  neighbor  with  vexatious  lawsuits,  merely 
to  oppress  and  ruin  him,  but  will  be  liable,  by  your  own  ver 
dict,  to  prosecution  and  damages  whenever  you  shall  feel  con 
strained  to  condemn  what  appears  to  you  injustice,  oppression, 
or  littleness,  no  matter  how  flagrant  the  case  may  be. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  my  character,  my  reputation  are  in 
your  hands.  I  think  I  may  say  that  I  commit  them  to  your 
keeping  untarnished;  I  will  not  doubt  that  you  will  return  them 
to  me  unsullied.  1  ask  of  you  no  mercy,  but  justice.  I  have 


HORACE  GREELEY.  363 

not  sought  this  issue ;  but  neither  have  I  feared  nor  shunned  it. 
Should  you  render  the  verdict  against  me,  I  shall  deplore,  far 
more  than  any  pecuniary  consequence,  the  stigma  of  libeler 
which  your  verdict  would  tend  to  cast  upon  me — an  imputa 
tion  which  I  was  never,  till  now,  called  to  repel  before  a  jury 
of  my  countrymen.  But,  gentlemen,  feeling  no  consciousness 
of  deserving  such  a  stigma — feeling,  at  this  moment,  as  ever, 
a  profound  conviction  that  I  do  not  deserve  it,  I  shall  yet  be 
consoled  by  the  reflection,  that  many  nobler  and  worthier  than 
I  have  suffered  far  more  than  any  judgment  here  could  inflict  on 
me,  for  the  rights  of  free  speech  and  opinion — the  right  of  rebu 
king  oppression  and  meanness  in  the  language  of  manly  sincer 
ity  and  honest  feeling.  By  their  example,  may  I  still  be  up 
held  and  strengthened.  Gentlemen,  I  fearlessly  await  your 
decision ! " 

Mr.  J.  F.  Cooper  in  person  proceeded  to  sum  up 
the  cause  for  the  prosecution,  after  which  follow 
some  general  comments  by  Mr.  Greeley,  which  are 
racy: 

"  Knowing  what  we  did  and  do  of  the  severe  illness  of  the 
wife  of  Mr.  Weed,  and  the  dangerous  state  of  his  eldest  daugh 
ter  at  the  time  of  the  Fonda  trials  in  question — regarding  them 
as  we  do — the  jokes  attempted  to  be  cut  by  Fenimore  over 
their  condition — his  talk  of  the  story  growing  up  from  one  girl 
to  the  mother  and  three  or  four  daughters — his  fun  about  their 
probably  having  the  Asiatic  cholera  among  them,  or  some  other 
contagious  disease,  &a,  &c.,  however  it  may  have  sounded  to 


o  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

others,  did  seem  to  us  rather  inhu hallo   there!    we  had 

liked  to  have  put  our  foot  right  into  it  again,  after  all  our  tui 
tion.  We  mean  to  say  considering  that,  just  the  day  before, 
Mr.  Weed  had  been  choked  by  his  counsel  into  surrendering 
at  discretion  to  Fenimore,  being  assured  (correctly)  by  said 
counsel  that,  as  the  law  is  now  expounded  and  administered  by 
the  supreme  court,  he  had  no  earthly  choice  but  to  bow  his 
neck  to  the  yoke,  pay  all  that  might  be  claimed  of  him,  and 
publish  whatever  humiliations  should  be  required,  or  else  pre 
pare  to  be  immediately  ruined  by  the  suits  which  Fenimore 
and  Richard  had  already  commenced  or  were  getting  ready  for 
him — considering  all  this,  and  how  much  Mr.  Weed  has 
paid  and  must  pay  towards  his  subsistence — how  keenly 
W.  has  had  to  smart  for  his  speaking  his  mind  of  him — we 
did  not  think  that  Fenimore's  talk  at  this  time  and  place  of 
Weed's  family,  and  of  Weed  himself,  as  a  man  so  paltry  that 
he  would  pretend  to  sickness  in  his  family  as  an  excuse  to  keep 
away  from  court,  and  resort  to  trick  after  trick  to  put  offhis  case 
for  a  day  or  two— it  seemed  to  us,  considering  the  present  re 
lations  of  the  parties,  most  ungen there  we  go  again !  We 

mean  to  say  that  the  whole  of  this  part  of  Mr.  Cooper's  speech 
grated  upon  our  feelings  rather  harshly.  We  believe  that  isn't 
a  libel.  (This  talking  with  a  gag  in  the  mouth  is  rather  awk 
ward,  at  first,  but  we'll  get  the  hang  of  it  in  time.  Have  pa 
tience  with  us,  Fenimore  on  one  side  and  the  public  on  the  other, 
till  we  nick  it.)  *****  Fenimore  closed  very  ef 
fectively  with  an  appeal  for  his  character,  and  a  picture  of  the 
sufferings  of  his  wife  and  family — his  grown  up  daughters  of 
ten  suffused  in  tears  by  these  attacks  on  their  father.  Some  said 


IMItACE  GREKLEY.  365 

this  was  mawkish,  but  we  consider  it  good,  and  think  it  toLl. 
We  have  a  different  theory  as  to  what  the  girls  were  crying 
for,  but  we  wont  state  it,  lest  another  dose  of  supreme  court 
law  be  administered  to  us.  (Not  any  more  at  present,  1  thank 
ye  {)»*»««  xhe  jury  retired,  and  the  rest  of  us 
went  to  dinner.  The  jury  were  hungry,  too,  and  did  not  stay 
out  long.  On  comparing  notes,  there  were  seven  of  them  for 
a  verdict  of  one  hundred,  two  for  two  hundred,  and  three  for 
five  hundred  dollars.  They  added  these  sums  up — total  twenty- 
six  hundred — divided  by  twelve,  and  the  dividend  was  a  little 
over  two  hundred ;  so  they  called  it  two  hundred  dollars  dam 
ages  and  six  cents  costs,  which  of  course  carries  full  costs 
against  us.  We  Went  back  from  dinner,  took  the  verdict  in 
all  meekness,  took  a  sleigh,  and  struck  a  bee-line  for  New 
York." 

Upon  the  harmless  jokes  cracked  by  Mr.  Greeley 

in   this   report,  such  as   "  inhu ,"  "  ungen ," 

&c.,  Cooper  commenced  another  action,  but  his  bet 
ter  judgment  returning  before  he  had  quite  made  a 
fool  of  himself,  he  abandoned  it.  Before  we  leave 
the  subject  we  must  find  room  for  Greeley 's  closing 
piece  of  pleasantry  ;  we  call  it  rich  : 

"Our  friend  Fenimore  Cooper,  it  will  be  remembered, 
chivalrously  declared,  in  his  summing  up  at  Ballston,  that  if  we 
were  to  sue  him  for  a  libel  in  asserting  our  personal  uncomeli- 
ness,  he  should  not  plead  the  general  issue,  but  justify.  To  a 
plain  man,  this  would  seem  an  easy  and  safe  course.  But  let 


36  G  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

us  try  it :  Fenimore  has  the  audacity  to  say  we  are  not  hand 
some  ;  we  employ  Richard  (Fenimore's  counsel) — we  pre 
sume  he  has  no  aversion  to  a  good  fee,  even  if  made  of  the 
editorial  'sixpences'  Fenimore  dilated  on — and  commence 
our  action,  lay  ing  the  venue  in  St.  Lawrence,  Alleghany,  or  some 
other  county  where  our  personal  appearance  is  not  notori 
ous  ;  and  if  the  judge  should  be  a  friend  of  ours,  so  much 
the  better.  Well ;  Fenimore  boldly  pleads  justification,  think 
ing  it  as  easy  as  not.  But  how  is  he  to  establish  it  ?  We  of 
course  should  not  be  so  green  as  to  attend  the  trial  in  person 
in  such  an  issue — no  man  is  obliged  to  make  out  his  adversary's 
case — but  would  leave  it  all  to  Richard,  and  the  help  the  judge 
might  properly  give  him.  So  the  case  is  on,  and  Fenimore 
undertakes  the  justification,  which,  of  course,  admits  and  aggra 
vates  the  libel ;  so  our  side  is  all  made  out.  But  let  us  see 
how  he  gets  along.  Of  course,  he  will  not  think  of  offering 
witnesses  to  swear  pointblank  that  we  are  homely — that,  if  he 
did  not  know  it,  the  judge  would  soon  tell  him  would  be  a  sim 
ple  opinion,  which  would  not  do  to  go  to  a  jury ;  he  must  pre 
sent  facts. 

"Fenimore. — 'Well,  then,  your  honor,  I  offer  to  prove  by 
this  witness  that  the  plaintiff  is  tow-headed,  and  half  bald  at 
that ;  he  is  long-legged,  gaunt,  and  most  cadaverous  of  visage 
— ergo,  homely.' 

"  Judge. — '  How  does  that  follow  1  Light  hair  and  fair  face 
bespeak  a  purely  Saxon  ancestry,  and  were  honorable  in  the 
good  old  days ;  /  rule  that  they  are  comely.  Thin  locks 
bring  out  the  phrenological  developments,  you  see,  and  give 
dignity  and  massiveness  to  the  aspect;  and  as  to  slendering, 


HORACE  GREELEY.  367 

what  do  our  dandies  lace  for  if  that  is  not  graceful  ]  They 
ought  to  know  what  is  attractive,  I  reckon.  No,  sir ;  your 
proof  is  irrelevant,  and  I  rule  it  out.' 

" Fenimore. — (The  sweat  starting.)  'Well,  your  honor, 
I  have  evidence  to  prove  the  said  plaintiff  is  slouching  in 
dress ;  goes  bent  like  a  hoop,  and  so  rocking  in  gait,  that  he 
goes  down  both  sides  of  a  street  at  once.' 

t;  Judge. — '  That  to  prove  homeliness  1  I  hope  you  don't  ex 
pect  a  man  of  ideas  to  spend  his  precious  time  before  a  looking- 
glass  ]  It  would  be  robbing  the  public.  "Bent,"  do  you  say  ? 
Is  n't  the  curve  the  true  line  of  beauty,  I'd  like  to  know  1 
Where  were  you  brought  up  ?  As  to  walking,  you  don't  ex 
pect  a  "  man  of  mark,"  as  you  called  him  at  Ballston,  to  be 
quite  as  dapper  and  pert  as  a  footman,  whose  walk  is  his 
hourly  study  and  his  nightly  dream — its  perfection,  the  sum 
of  his  ambition  !  Great  ideas  of  beauty  you  must  have  !  That 
evidence  wont  answer.' 

"  Now,  Fenimore,  brother  in  adversity  !  wouldn't  you  be 
gin  to  have  a  realizing  sense  of  your  awful  situation  1  Wouldn't 
you  begin  to  wish  yourself  somewhere  eke,  and  a  great  deal 
further,  before  you  came  into  court  to  justify,  legally,  an  opinion  1 
Wouldn't  you  begin  to  perceive  that  the  application  of  the  law 
of  libel  in  its  strictness  to  a  mere  expression  of  opinion  is  ab 
surd,  mistaken,  and  tyrannical  ? 

"  Of  course,  we  shan't  take  advantage  of  your  exposed  and 
perilous  condition,  for  we  are  meek  and  forgiving,  with  a  hearty 
disrelish  for  the  machinery  of  the  law.  But  if  we  had  a  mind 
to  take  hold  of  you,  with  Richard  to  help  us,  and  the  supreme 
court's  ruling  in  actions  of  libel  at  our  back,  wouldn't  you  catch 


368  MODEKN    AGITATOKS. 

it  ?  We  should  get  the  whole  fund  back  again,  and  give  a  din 
ner  to  the  numerous  editorial  contributors.  That  dinner  would 
be  worth  attending,  Fenimore  j  and  we'll  warrant  the  jokes  to 
average  a  good  deal  better  than  you  cracked  in  your  speech  at 
Ballston." 


The  Tribune — never  behind  its  competitors  in  news, 
always  independent  and  out-spoken  in  its  criticisms 
of  public  action  whether  individual  or  assembled,  of 
ten  exposing  itself  to  the  bitterest  attacks  of  its  polit 
ical  enemies,  yet  always  able  and  strong  in  defense — 
continued  to  increase  in  prosperity  through  the  early 
years  of  its  existence.     Though  it  had  able  contrib 
utors,  its  master-spirit,  the  life-giving  heart  of  its  sys 
tem,  was  Horace  Greeley.     With  new  type  and  the 
paper  increased  one  third  in  its  original  dimensions, 
he  entered  the  labors  of  1844,  strong  in  purpose  and 
full  of  vigor.     It  was  now  the  leading  whig  paper  of 
the  country.     This  was  to  be,  to  its  controller,  a  year 
of  the  most  intense   application,  both   mental   and 
physical.      Henry  Clay,  the  favorite   of    Greeley 's 
boyhood,  the  political   idol   of  his   riper  years,  and 
now  almost  his  God,  was  the  candidate  for  president. 
Of  the  amount   of  work  which   Mr.  Greeley  per 
formed  in  that  campaign,  no  one  can  have  any  con 
ception  who  has  not  addressed  public  meetings  five 
or  six  times  a  week,  traveled  by  all  the  hours  of  sun 
light,  written  twenty  private  letters  a  day,  besides  an 


HORACE    OKEELET.  3(19 

average  of  twenty  pages  of  foolscap  daily  for  the 
press.  It  was  well,  perhaps,  for  the  cause  of  Ameri 
can  reform,  that  Clay  was  defeated  ;  the  overthrow 
of  his  darling  candidate  was  the  first  blow  toward 
Horace  Greeley's  emancipation  from  the  bondage  of 
party  and  political  servitude.  It  was  soon  followed 
up  by  another,  which  was  the  annexation  of  Texas. 
Greeley  now  opened  his  eyes  to  the  encroachments  of 
the  slave  power.  He  discovered  that  he  had  made  a 
slight  mistake  in  supposing  that  by  keeping  still  and 
letting  the  south  have  her  own  way,  our  rights  would 
be  best  secured  to  us.  He  was  feeling  his  way  along 
to  truth  upon  this  question,  when,  in  the  early  morn 
ing  of  February  5th,  ISio,  the  office  of  the  paper 
was  destroyed  by  fire.  Scarcely  anything  was  saved 
but  the  mail  books,  which  had  been  deposited  in  the 
safe.  The  city  papers,  however,  kindly  turned  out  to 
him  their  spare  printing  materials,  and,  the  next 
morning,  the  best  Tribune  of  the  volume  appeared  at 
its  usual  hour,  and  soon  everything  was  restored  to 
its  uniform  order  and  regularity. 

In  the  autumn  previous  to  this  casualty,  Mr.  Greeley 
became  acquainted  with  Margaret  Fuller,  through 
the  pages  of  the  Dial.  The  richness  of  her  style,  the 
purity  and  originality  of  her  sentiments,  and  her  force 
of  diction,  induced  him  to  ask  her  assistance  in  the 
literary  department  of  the  Tribune,  and  she  replied 
favorably.  Her  first  essay  was  published  in  Decem- 
P*  24 


370  MODERN    AGITATO  i:>. 

ber,  184:4.  Her  average  amount  of  writing  was  three 
articles  weekly.  She  brought  to  the  Tribune  a  mind 
crammed  with  the  first  literature  of  both  hemispheres. 
Her  talent  for  criticism  was  the  most  acute  of  any 
woman  of  her  time.  She  appreciated  the  beauty  of 
a  literary  performance  and  acknowledged  it  instantly, 
where  others  read  and  re-read,  and  withheld  their 
opinion  till  some  one  spoke  first.  During  the  time 
of  her  connection  with  the  Tribune,  she  resided  in 
Mr.  Greeley's  family,  upon  the  banks  of  the  East 
river.  After  fourteen  months  she  went  to  Europe, 
expecting  to  return  after  a  temporary  absence  ;  but 
the  vessel  on  which  she  embarked  came  almost  within 
sight  of  her  home,  and  there,  with  its  cargo  and  pas 
sengers,  sank  forever ! 

"We  shall  proceed  to  give  specimens  of  Mr.  Gree 
ley's  style,  which  are  strongly  flavored  with  the  vitu 
perative.  They  occurred  during  the  years  1846  and 
1847,  when  the  Tribune  was  at  war  with  almost  all 
the  educated  professions  of  America.  We  give 
merely  an  occasional  paragraph  : 

"  The  Journal  of  Commerce  is  the  most  self-complacent  and 
dogmatic  of  all  possible  newspapers." 

"  We  defy  the  father  of  lies  himself  to  crowd  more  stupen 
dous  falsehoods  into  a  paragraph  than  this  contains." 

"  The  villain  who  makes  this  charge  against  me  well  knows 
that  it  is  the  basest  falsehood." 


HORACE  GREELEY.  371 

"  Mr.  Benton  !  each  of  the  above  observations  is  a  deliberate 
falsehood,  and  you  are  an  unqualified  villain." 

"  The  Express  is  surely  the  basest  and  paltriest  of  all  possi 
ble  journals." 

4i  Having  been  absent  from  the  city  a  few  days,  I  perceive 
with  a  pleasurable  surprise,  on  my  return,  that  the  Express 
has  only  perpetrated  two  new  calumnies  upon  me  of  any  con 
sequence,  since  Friday  evening." 

To  an  article  recommending  the  secession  of  the 
slave  states  from  the  Union,  he  replies  thus : 

"  Dr.  Franklin  used  to  tell  an  anecdote  illustrative  of  his 
idea  of  the  folly  of  dueling,  substantially  thus  :  A  man  said 
to  another  in  some  public  place,  '  Sir,  I  wish  you  would  move 
a  little  away  from  me,  for  a  disagreeable  odor  proceeds  from 
you.'  '  Sir,'  was  the  stern  response,  '  that  is  an  insult,  and  you 
must  fight  me ! '  '  Certainly,'  was  the  quiet  reply,  '  I  will  fight 
you  if  you  wish  it ;  but  I  don't  see  how  that  can  mend  the 
matter.  If  you  kill  me,  I  also  shall  smell  badly  ;  and  if  I  kill 
you,  you  will  smell  worse  than  you  do  now.' 

"We  have  not  yet  been  able  to  understand  what  our  dis- 
unionists,  north  or  south,  really  expect  to  gain  by  dissolving 
the  Union.  *  *  *  *  '  These  valuable  slaves  escaped,'  do 
you  say  1  Will  slaves  be  any  less  likely  to  run  away  when 
they  know  that,  once  across  Mason  and  Dixon's  line,  they  are 
safe  from  pursuit,  and  can  never  be  reclaimed  ?  '  Every  slave 
holder  is  in  continual  apprehension,'  say  you  1  In  the  name  of 
wonder,  how  is  disunion  to  soothe  their  nervous  excitement  1 


372  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

They  '  wont  stand  it,'  eh  ?  Have  they  never  heard  of  getting 
'out  of  the  frying-pan  into  the  fire1? '  Do  let  us  hear  how  sla 
very  is  to  be  perpetuated  and  fortified  by  disunion  ?  " 

In  reply  to  an  article  in  the  Courier  and  Enquirer, 
upon  his  eccentricity  and  style  of  dress,  he  has  the 
following  paragraph : 

"  As  to  our  personal  appearance,  it  does  seem  that  we  should 
say  something,  to  stay  the  flood  of  nonsense  with  which  the 
town  must  by  this  time  be  nauseated.  Some  donkey  a  while 
ago,  apparently  anxious  to  annoy  the  editor  of  this  paper,  and 
not  well  knowing  with  what,  originated  the  story  of  the  care 
lessness  of  his  personal  appearance ;  and  since  then  every  block 
head  of  the  same  disposition,  and  distressed  by  a  similar  lack 
of  ideas,  has  repeated  and  exaggerated  the  foolery ;  until  from 
its  origin  in  the  Albany  Microscope  it  has  sunk  down  at  last  to 
the  columns  of  the  Courier  and  Enquirer,  growing  more  absurd 
at  every  landing.  Yet  all  this  time  the  object  of  this  silly  rail 
lery  has  doubtless  worn  better  clothes  than  two- thirds  of  those 
who  thus  assailed  him — better  than  any  of  them  could  honestly 
wear  if  they  paid  their  debts  otherwise  than  by  bankruptcy ; 
while,  indeed,  if  they  are  more  cleanly  than  he,  they  must 
bathe  very  thoroughly  not  less  than  twice  a  day.  The  editor 
of  the  Tribune  is  the  son  of  a  poor  and  humble  farmer ;  came 
to  New  York  a  minor,  without  a  friend  within  two  hundred 
miles,  less  than  ten  dollars  in  his  pocket,  and  precious  little  be 
sides  ;  he  has  never  had  a  dollar  from  a  relative,  and  has  for 
years  labored  under  a  load  of  debt,  (thrown  on  him  by  the  mis- 


HORACE  GRKELEY.  37?> 

conduct  of  others  and  the  revulsions  of  1837,)  which  he  can 
now  just  see  to  the  end  of.  Thenceforth  he  may  be  able  to 
make  a  better  show,  if  deemed  essential  by  his  friends ;  for 
himself  he  has  not  much  time  or  thought  to  bestow  upon  the 
matter.  That  he  ever  affected  eccentricity  is  most  untrue; 
and  certainly  no  costume  he  ever  appeared  in  would  create 
such  a  sensation  in  Broadway  as  that  James  Watson  Webb 
would  have  worn  but  for  the  clemency  of  Governor  Seward. 
Heaven  grant  our  assailant  may  never  hang  with  such  weight 
on  another  whig  executive !  We  drop  him." 

To  explain  the  last  few  sentences,  it  need  only  be 
remembered  that  Colonel  Webb  had  been  sentenced 
to  prison  for  two  years,  for  fighting  a  duel,  but  he  was 
pardoned  by  Governor  Seward,  without  a  day's  im 
prisonment. 

Being  accused  by  the  Evening  Post  of  knuckling 
to  the  slave  interest,  Greeley  commenced  his  reply 
in  these  words  :  "  You  lie,  villain :  wilfully,  wick 
edly,  basely  lie  !  " 

In  the  Taylor  and  Fillmore  campaign  Mr.  Greeley 
at  first  opposed,  then  wavered,  and  never  heartily 
supported  the  nomination.  He  thought  that  General 
Taylor  was  not  a  man  qualified  to  be  president  of  the 
United  States,  but  he  was  prevailed  upon  to  support 
the  nominations  with  a  view  to  the  triumph  of  free 
soil  doctrines.  The  whigs  were  successful,  and  there 
by  Horace  Greeley  was  elected  to  a  seat  in  congress 
for  three  months,  to  supply  the  vacancy  occasioned 


374  MODERN    AGITATORS, 

by  the  death  of  a  New  York  representative.  While 
there,  he  was  too  industrious  to  be  esteemed  by  lazy 
aristocrats  ;  too  economical  in  "  Uncle  Sam's  "  inter 
ests  to  be  popular  among  his  nephews  ;  and  too  much 
a  hater  of  vice  to  be  loved  by  her  devotees.  The 
measures  which  he  labored  upon  mostly  were  the  re 
form  in  mileage  ;  the  land  reform  bill,  and  the  bill 
for  the  reduction  of  naval  expenses.  He  also  made 
some  "  plain  and  forcible  "  hits  upon  the  tariff  ques 
tion,  and  the  slave-trade  in  the  District,  and  took  part 
in  the  famous  (or  infamous)  "  battle  of  the  books." 
During  the  intervals  of  session  he  \vrote  many  articles 
for  the  Tribune,  among  which,  the  most  prominent, 
and  the  one  wrhich  procured  him  immense  odium 
among  the  members  was  the  "mileage  expose."  But 
we  cannot  stop  to  trace  his  course  while  here.  He 
was  completely  disgusted  with  the  management  and 
duplicity  of  the  "  honorables,"  and  especially  with 
that  crowning  master-piece  of  shame,  "  the  last  night 
of  the  session."  He  wrote  a  long  letter  to  his  con 
stituents,  upon  his  return,  of  which  we  give  the  clo 
sing  paragraph  : 

"  My  work  as  your  servant  is  done — whether  well  or  ill  it 
remains  for  you  to  judge.  Very  likely  I  gave  the  wrong  vote 
on  some  of  the  difficult  and  complicated  questions  to  which  I 
was  called  to  respond  AYE  or  NO,  with  hardly  a  moment's 
warning.  If  so,  you  can  detect  and  condemn  the  error ;  for 
my  name  stands  recorded  in  the  divisions  by  Yeas  and  Nays, 


HORACE  GKEELEY.  375 

on  every  public  and  all  but  one  private  bill,  (which  was  laid  on 
the  table  the  moment  the  sitting  opened,  and  on  which  my 
name  had  just  been  passed  as  I  entered  the  hall.)  I  wish  it 
were  the  usage  among  us  to  publish  less  of  speeches  and  more 
of  propositions  and  votes  thereupon;  it  would  give  the  mass 
of  the  people  a  much  clearer  insight  into  the  management  of  their 
public  affairs.  My  successor  being  already  chosen  and  com 
missioned,  I  shall  hardly  be  suspected  of  seeking  your  further 
kindness,  and  I  shall  be  heartily  rejoiced  if  he  shall  be  able  to 
combine  equal  zeal  in  your  service  with  greater  efficiency — 
equal  fearlessness  with  greater  popularity.  *  *  *  I  thank 
you  heartily  for  the  glimpse  of  public  life  which  your  favor 
has  afforded  me,  and  hope  to  render  it  useful  henceforth,  not 
to  myself  only,  but  to  the  public.  In  ceasing  to  be  your  agent, 
and  returning  with  renewed  zest  to  my  private  cares  and  du 
ties,  I  have  a  single  additional  favor  to  ask,  not  of  you  espe- 
pecially,  but  of  all ;  and  I  am  sure  my  friends  at  least  will 
grant  it  without  hesitation.  It  is  that  you  and  they  will  hence 
forth  oblige  me  by  remembering  that  my  name  is  simply 

"  HORACE  GREELEY." 

The  year  1849  exhibits  an  amount  of  talent  in  the 
Tribune  office  which  defies  competition  in  America. 
Besides  Mr.  Greeley,  principal  editor,  there  was  C. 
A.  Dana,  of  brilliant  talents,  assistant  ;  George  Rip- 
ley,  a  profound  scholar  and  classical  critic  ;  "W.  H. 
Fry,  from  the  scorchings  of  whose  "brain-pan  many 
an  unlucky  culprit  has  wished  himself  in  the  fire  ; 
Bayard  Taylor,  with  imagination  and  memory  stored 


376  MODERN    AG1TATOKS. 

with  wealth  from  the  plains  of  California  and  Europe, 
and  G.  G.  Foster,  a  rapid  workman  in  the  city  news 
department.  Need  it  be  wondered  that  the  Tribune 
grew  and  thrived  in  spite  of  its  independent  fear 
lessness  ? 

Mr.  Greeley's  cares  were  much  lightened  by  such 
an  able  corps  of  men,  and  he  found  considerable  time 
to  travel.  He  took  a  tour  to  the  west,  lectured  upon 
agriculture,  and  kept  wide  open  his  eye  for  observa 
tion.  It  has  been  affirmed  by  many,  and  believed 
by  some,  possibly,  that  he  was  an  advocate  of  the 
doctrine  of  "  spiritual  manifestations."  He  was  not. 
He  examined  the  subject  with  care,  as  every  honest 
in  an  should,  and  did  not  find  evidence  of  its  truth 
fulness. 

In  regard  to  the  woman's  rights  theory,  he  wrote 
as  follows :  "  It  is  easy  to  be  smart,  to  be  droll,  to 
be  facetious,  in  opposition  to  the  demands  of  these 
female  reformers ;  and,  in  decrying  assumptions  so 
novel  and  opposed  to  established  habits  and  usages, 
a  little  wit  will  go  a  great  way.  But  when  a  sincere 
republican  is  asked  to  say  in  sober  earnest  what  ade 
quate  reason  he  can  give  for  refusing  the  demand  of 
women  to  an  equal  participation  with  men  in  politi 
cal  rights,  lie  must  answer,  none  at  all.  *  #  *  * 
However  unwise  or  mistaken  the  demand,  it  must  be 
conceded." 

The  Tribune  had  now  become  a  lucrative  concern. 


HORACE  GREELEY.  377 

it  was  the  first  enterprise  in  which  Horace  Greeley 
had  so  succeeded  as  to  make  it  "  pay."  Instead  of 
heaping  up  a  princely  fortune  upon  the  receipts,  as 
he  might  honorably  have  done  after  so  much  hard 
labor  to  establish  it,  he  and  Mr.  McElrath  determined 
to  make  an  experiment  of  the  doctrine  of  "  associated 
labor,"  and  to  it  they  devoted  the  Tribune.  The  con 
cern  was  divided  into  one  hundred  shares,  of  a  thou 
sand  dollars  each,  and  (excepting  a  reserved  portion 
for  the  original  partners)  they  were  sold  out  to  such 
of  the  men  in  the  establishment  as  could  pay  for 
them.  Each  share  entitled  its  owner  to  a  vote  in 
proceedings  of  the  company,  and  it  so  continues  to 
this  day. 

In  1851  Horace  Greeley  attended  the  General  Ex 
hibition  for  Industry,  at  London,  and  while  there  was 
appointed  one  of  the  jury  on  hardware.  As  the 
steamer  glided  down  the  harbor,  the  Napoleon  of  the 
New  York  press  stood  girt  in  the  immortal  "  white 
overcoat,"  while  crowds  of  friends  upon  the  dock  sent 
up  enthusiastic  cheers.  His  passage  to  England  was 
a  tempestuous  one,  and  being  sea-sick  most  of  the 
way  over,  he  enjoyed  it  but  little.  He  visited  the 
principal  cities  of  England,  commented  upon  every 
thing  he  thought  worthy  of  note,  and  in  the  columns 
of  his  paper  criticised  what  he  disliked,  as  freely  as 
at  home.  He  was  invited  by  a  parliamentary  com 
mittee  of  the  first  men  in  England  to  give  them  the 
P*  24 


378  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

benefit  of  his  experience  in  the  matter  of  cheap  peri 
odicals.  His  information  was  well  received,  and 
seemed  quite  satisfactory  to  the  committee.  After 
nearly  two  months'  stay  in  England,  he  went  over  to 
the  continent,  visited  Calais,  Paris,  and  Lyons ;  went 
across  the  Alps  to  Turin,  and  spent  three  weeks 
among  the  principal  cities  of  Italy.  Returning 
through  Switzerland,  Germany,  and  Belgium,  the 
21st  of  July  found  him  again  in  London.  He  closed 
his  European  tour  by  a  hasty  trip  through  the  north 
of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  and  on  the  6th  of 
August,  in  the  Baltic,  started  for  home.  He  wrote 
under  date  of  that  day  the  following  paragraph  : 

"  I  rejoice  to  feel  that  every  hour,  henceforth,  must  lessen  the 
distance  which  divides  me  from  my  country,  whose  advantages 
and  blessings  this  four  months'  absence  has  taught  me  to  ap 
preciate  more  dearly,  and  to  prize  more  deeply,  than  before. 
With  a  glow  of  ui: wonted  rapture  I  see  our  stately  vessel's 
prow  turned  toward  the  setting  sun,  and  strive  to  realize  that 
only  some  ten  days  separate  me  from  those  I  know  and  love 
best  on  earth.  Hark  !  the  last  gun  announces  that  the  mail- 
boat  has  left  us,  and  that  we  are  fairly  afloat  on  our  ocean 
journey ;  the  shores  of  Europe  recede  from  our  vision ;  the 
watery  waste  is  all  around  us ;  and  now,  with  God  above  and 
death  below,  our  gallant  bark  and  her  clustered  company  to 
gether  brave  the  dangers  of  the  mighty  deep.  May  Infinite 
Mercy  watch  over  our  onward  path  and  bring  us  safely  to  our 
several  homes ;  for  to  die  away  from  home  and  kindred  seems 


HORACE  GREELKY.  379 

one  of  the  saddest  calamities  that  could  befall  me.  This  mor 
tal  tenement  would  rest  uneasily  in  an  ocean  shroud  ;  this 
spirit  reluctantly  resign  that  tenement  to  the  chill  and  pitiless 
brine ;  these  eyes  close  regretfully  on  the  stranger  skies  and 
bleak  inhospitality  of  the  sullen  and  stormy  main.  No !  let 
me  see  once  more  the  scenes  so  well  remembered  and  beloved  ; 
let  me  grasp,  if  but  once  again,  the  hand  of  friendship,  and 
hear  the  thrilling  accents  of  proved  affection,  and  when,  sooner 
or  later,  the  hour  of  mortal  agony  shall  come,  let  my  last  gaze 
be  fixed  on  eyes  that  will  not  forget  me  when  I  am  gone,  and 
let  my  ashes  repose  in  that  congenial  soil  which,  however  I 
may  then  be  esteemed  or  hated  is  still  '  My  own  green  land 
forever ! ' " 

He  reached  New  York  in  safety,  having  stolen  a 
march  on  the  daily  papers,  by  arranging  the  foreign 
news  all  ready  for  publication,  before  leaving  the 
vessel.  Rushing  from  the  steamer,  he  carried  the 
"copy"  to  the  Tribune  office,  and  while  the  compos 
itors  of  the  other  papers  were  setting  up  their  type, 
the  Tribune  boys  were  shouting  the  arrival  of  the 
Baltic. 

In  1836,  Mr.  Greeley  married  Mary  Y.  Cheney, 
of  Litchfield,  Connecticut,  by  whom  he  has  had  six 
children,  four  of  whom,  alas  !  are  now  sleeping  in  the 
grave.  His  domestic  afflictions  and  his  constant  and 
severe  toil  have  given  to  his  brow  a  weary,  worn 
look,  like  that  upon  the  countenance  of  a  sorrowing, 


380  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

suffering  man.     And  now  he  begins  to  talk  of  grow 
ing  old.     He  says  most  beautifully  : 

"  As  for  me,  long  tossed  on  the  stormiest  waves  of  doubtful 
conflict,  and  an  arduous  endeavor,  I  have  begun  to  feel,  since 
the  shade  of  forty  years  fell  upon  me,  the  weary,  tempest- 
driven  voyager's  longing  for  land,  the  wanderer's  yearning  for 
the  hamlet  where  in  childhood  he  nestled  by  his  mother's  knee, 
and  was  soothed  to  sleep  on  her  breast. 

"  The  sober  down-hill  of  life  dispels  many  illusions,  while  it 
develops  or  strengthens  within  us  the  attachment,  perhaps 
long  smothered  or  overlaid,  for  'that  dear  hut,'  our  home. 
And  so  I,  in  the  sober  afternoon  of  life,  when  its  sun,  if  not 
high,  is  still  warm,  have  bought  me  a  few  acres  of  land  in  the 
broad,  still  country,  and,  bearing  thither  my  household  treas 
ures,  have  resolved  to  steal  from  the  city's  labors  and  anxieties, 
at  least  one  day  in  each  week,  wherein  to  revive,  as  a  farmer, 
the  memories  of  my  childhood's  humble  home. 

"  And  already  I  realize  that  the  experience  cannot  cost  so 
much  as  it  is  worth.  Already  I  find  in  that  day's  quiet  an  an 
tidote  and  a  solace  for  the  feverish,  festering  cares  of  the  week 
which  environ  it.  Already  my  brook  murmurs  a  soothing 
even-song  to  my  burning,  throbbing  brain,  and  my  trees,  gently 
stirred  by  the  fresh  breezes,  whisper  to  my  spirit  something 
of  their  own  quiet  strength  and  patient  trust  in  God. 

"  And  thus  do  I  faintly  realize,  but  for  a  brief  and  flitting 
day,  the  serene  joy  which  shall  irradiate  the  farmer's  vocation, 
when  a  fuller  and  a  truer  education  shall  have  refined  and 
chastened  his  animal  cravings,  and  when  science  shall  have  en- 


HORACE  GREELET.  381 

dowed  him  with  her  treasures,  redeeming  labor  from  drudgery- 
while  quadrupling  its  efficiency,  and  crowning  with  beauty  and 
plenty  our  bounteous,  beneficent  earth." 

In  another  place  he  writes  thus  eloquently  of  grow 
ing  old : 

"  Is  it  well  to  desire  and  pray  for  length  of  days  ]  I  would 
say,  so  long  as  our  mental  faculties  remain  essentially  unde- 
cayed,  it  is  well,  it  is  desirable  to  live.  The  love  of  life  is  not 
a  blind,  irrational  instinct,  but  has  as  its  base  a  just  perception 
that  existence  is  a  blessing,  and  that  even  in  this  "  vale  of  tears," 
its  joys  outweigh  its  woes.  And  besides,  our  terrestrial  course 
prepares  and  shapes  us  for  the  life  that  shall  succeed  it,  which 
will  be,  to  a  great  extent,  a  continuation,  or  second  edition  of 
this,  with  corrections  and  improvements.  Doubtless,  Infinite 
Mercy  has  means  provided  whereby  the  millions  to  whom  this 
life  was  a  blank  shall  nevertheless  be  prepared  for  bliss  in  the 
next ;  and  I  trust  even  those  who  have  misused  and  culpably 
squandered  this  stage  of  being  will  yet  be  ultimately  fitted  for 
happiness  in  another.  But  opportunities  wasted  can  never  be 
regained  ;  the  memory  of  past  un worthiness  must  ever  be  hu 
miliating  and  regretful  to  the  redeemed  soul.  In  vain  does 
Joseph,  revealing  himself  in  Egypt  to  his  treacherous  brethren, 
entreat  them  to  'Be  not  angry  with  yourselves  that  ye  sold 
me  hither,  for  God  did  send  me  before  you  to  preserve  life;' 
the  view  of  God  needed  no  vindication,  while  theirs  do  not  re 
ceive  any.  I  apprehend  that  flagrant  transgressors  (and  who 
is  or  is  not  of  this  number,  who  shall  here  say  ?)  will  ever  feel 
consciousness  of  inferiority  and  self-reproach  in  the  presence  of 


382  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

those  who  walked  worthily  on  earth — that  retrospect  of  their 
darker  hours  can  never  be  joyful  nor  welcome  to  Judas  or  Mag 
dalen.  So  long  as  we  may  grow  therein  in  wisdom  and  worth 
it  is  as  well,  it  is  desirable  to  live,  but  no  further.  To  my 
view,  insanity  is  the  darkest,  the  most  appalling  of  earthly  ca 
lamities ;  but  how  much  better  is  an  old  age  that  drivels  and 
wanders,  that  misunderstands  and  forgets  1  When  the  soul 
shall  have  become  choked  and  smothered  by  the  ruins  of  its 
wasting,  falling  habitation,  I  should  prefer  to  inhabit  that  shat 
tered  tenement  no  longer.  I  should  not  choose  to  stand  shud 
dering  and  trembling  on  the  brink  of  the  dark  river,  weakly 
drawing  back  from  the  chill  of  its  sweeping  flood,  when  faith 
assures  me  that  a  new  Eden  stretches  green  and  fair  beyond 
it,  and  that  the  baptism  it  invites  will  cleanse  the  soul  of  all 
that  now  clogs,  clouds,  and  weighs  it  to  the  earth.  No,  when 
the  windows  of  the  mind  shall  be  darkened,  when  the  growth 
of  the  soul  here  shall  have  been  arrested,  I  would  not  weakly 
cling  to  the  earth  which  will  have  ceased  to  nourish  and  uphold 
me.  Rather  '  let  the  golden  cup  be  loosed,  and  the  pitcher 
broken  at  the  fountain ; '  let  the  sun  of  my  existence  go  down 
ere  the  murky  vapors  shroud  its  horizon ;  let  me  close  my 
eyes  calmly  on  the  things  of  earth,  and  let  my  weary  frame 
sleep  beneath  the  clods  of  the  valley ;  let  the  spirit,  which  it 
can  no  longer  cherish  as  a  guest,  be  spared  the  ignominy  of  de 
tention  as  a  prisoner ;  but,  freed  from  the  fetters  of  clay,  let  it 
wing  its  way  through  the  boundless  universe,  to  wheresoever 
the  benign  Father  of  spirits  shall  have  assigned  it  an  everlast- 
home." 


HORACE  GREELEY.  383 

The  defeat  of  General  Scott  in  1852  emancipated 
Mr.  Greely  and  the  Tribune  from  the  shackles  of 
party  and  the  tyranny  of  conservatism  ;  it  made  him 
the  most  free  of  successful  editors,  and  his  paper  the 
ablest  and  most  fearless  journal  in  America.  We 
will  close  our  sketch  of  his  life  by  a  glance  at  him  in 
his  office. 

In  visiting  the  Tribune  establishment,  one  should 
by  no  means  be  content  with  an  introduction 
into  the  editorial  sanctum.  He  should  first  descend 
into  subterranean  regions  where  the  press-work  of 
the  Tribune  is  executed.  A  view  of  the  mammoth 
press,  which,  with  its  iron  fingers,  throws  off  fifteen 
thousand  impressions  an  hour,  will  give  him  an  idea 
of  the  business  of  the  establishment.  It  is  a  press 
which  has  little  rest,  for  the  aggregate  circulation  of 
the  Tribune  is  over  one  hundred  and  seventy  thousand 
copies !  Ascend  to  the  first  floor,  and  view  the  place 
where  the  business  of  the  paper  is  conducted — where 
its  immense  advertising  patronage  is  received  and  ac 
counted  for — where  all  bills  against  the  firm  of  Gree- 
ley  &  McElrath  are  settled  !  Mount  still  higher,  and 
see  the  printers  at  their  work.  If  it  is  day,  a  busy 
scene  will  present  itself,  yet  utter  silence  pervades  the 
apartments.  If  it  be  night,  it  is  still  the  same — each 
case  is  manned,  and  the  work  progresses  under  a  new 
set  of  workmen,  as  rapidly  as  by  day.  Floor  above 
floor,  is  occupied  by  the  industrious  printers,  and  the 


C8i  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

clerks  who  each  day  send  off  tens  of  thousands  of 
papers,  and  one  day  in  each  week,  more  than  one 
hundred  thousand.  But  we  have  not  visited  the 
place  where  the  burning  thoughts  which  are  the  life 
of  the  Tribune,  are  put  upon  paper.  It  is  in  the  high 
est  story  but  one,  fronting  on  the  park.  We  first  en 
ter  a  long  room  fronting  Spruce  street,  and  extend 
ing  to  Nassau  street.  Here  the  sub-editors  work. 
A  row  of  them,  each  seated  at  his  desk  and  plying  the 
pen  or  scissors  industriously,  attracts  our  attention. 
George  Ripley,  a  fine,  manly  person,  with  dark  hair 
and  darker  eyes,  sits  at  one.  He  is  the  literary  edi 
tor  of  the  Tribune,  the  book  critic,  and  one  would 
hardly  suppose  from  his  bland  manners  that  his  bu 
siness,  like  that  of  a  surgeon,  consists  in  cutting  peo 
ple  up  !  A  book  lies  open  before  him — he  is  marking 
passages  for  extraction,  and  to-morrow  morning  we 
shall  read  them  in  the  moist  pages  of  the  journal,  as 
we  sip  our  coffee,  together  with  the  critic's  remarks. 
Bayard  Taylor,  perhaps,  sits  at  another  desk,  just  re 
turned  from  a  profitable  lecturing  tour,  and  we  stop 
to  gaze  at  the  brilliant  young  traveler.  "Not  far  off 
sits  white-haired  "  Solon  " — Solon  Robinson,  the  au 
thor  of  "  Hot  Corn  " — the  agricultural  and  city  item 
editor  of  the  Tribune.  "We  skip  the  other  editors  in 
this  room,  and  pass  into  a  smaller  apartment  looking 
out  upon  the  City  Hall.  The  room  is  newly  carpeted 
— in  one  corner,  there  is  an  old-fashioned  sofa — easy 


K  <;I:KKLKY. 


chairs,  three  or  four,  are  to  be  seen,  and  in  one  corner 
at  a  desk  stands  a  slim,  black-haired,  brilliant 
man,  in  a  pair  of  exceedingly  old  and  easy  shoes. 
His  name  is  Charles  A.  Dana,  and  he  is  editor-in- 
chief  when  Greeley  is  ont  of  town,  and  is  usually 
termed  the  foreign  editor  of  the  7/VA,//,.  .  In  another 
corner  of  the  room  a  man  sits  writing  at  a  desk  which 
is  just  even  with  his  chin,  so  that  while  he  pushes  his 
pen  swiftly  over  the  paper  he  sits  perfectly  straight  in 
his  chair.  He  is  a  short-sighted,  and  his  eyes  hug  the 
desk.  He  is  a  strange  looking  mortal.  His  head  is 
almost  bald  ;  what  hair  there  is,  is  of  a  light,  sandy 
color,  and  is  exceedingly  fine.  He  is  dressed  —  well, 
we  may  as  well  speak  it  right  out  —  abominably.  It  is 
Horace  Greeley,  the  chief  editor  of  the  Tribun?, 
upon  his  throne  !  It  is  the  poor  plow-boy  control 
ling  the  grandest,  the  most  powerful  press  in  Amer 
ica.  He  turns  to  welcome  us,  and  we  notice  that  af 
ter  all  he  has  a  fine  face  —  a  gentle  look  it  ever  wears. 
The  eyes  are  not  harsh  or  bold,  but  mild  and  honest. 
And  though  his  manners  are  not  of  the  Lord  Ches 
terfield  stripe,  they  are  those  of  a  man  who  values 
trifles  less  than  realities.  His  thoughts  are  bold  and 
.striking  ;  he  has  charity  for  an  honest  opponent  ;  if 
we  differ  from  him  upon  any  point,  we  shall  not  ne 
cessarily  lose  his  esteem,  for  though  a  man  of  fixed 
opinions,  he  is  not  an  egotist.  Spite  of  a  thousand 
things  which  at  first  prepossessed  us  against  the  man, 
Q  25 


386  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

we  like  him  better  and  better,  the  more  we  see  of 
him  and  hear  him  talk.  Our  opinion  of  his  intellect 
ual  powers  and  his  moral  qualities  of  course  cannot 
be  altered  by  any  personal  contact  with  the  man. 
We  have  known  him  as  the  invisible  soul  behind  the 
Tribune  for  years — and  now  we  gaze  upon — the  Trib 
une  made  flesh  and  blood  ! 


TIIURLOW  WEED  BROWX. 

ONE  of  the  most  powerful  advocates  of  the  temper 
ance  cause  is  the  man  whose  name  heads  this  brief 
sketch.  He  is  powerful  in  a  somewhat  peculiar  way, 
not  like  Choate  or  Phillips,  with  the  very  highest  or 
der  of  eloquence,  nor  like  Sumner,  with  a  chastened, 
classical  eloquence.  He  is  powerful  with  the  people. 
Upon  a  vast  gathering  of  sturdy  yeomen  in  one  of 
"  God's  own  temples,"  he  will  make  a  most  profound 
impression.  He -overflows  with  natural  eloquence. 
He  knows  little  of  the  schools  of  rhetoric,  but  he 
knows  the  human  heart.  His  own  is  sensitive  as  a 
girl's.  Xo  wrong  can  be  perpetrated  upon  one  of 
his  fellow-men  without  rousing  his  indignation.  He 
knew  in  childhood  what  it  was  to  surfer  from  intem 
perance  of  the  nearest  friends,  and  he  grew  up  ha 
ting  the  traffickers  in  "  liquid  damnation  "  as  he  hated 
their  father,  the  devil.  He  utters  to  the  people  be 
fore  him  words  which  burn — sentences  which  blaze 
with  fire.  They  are  not  smooth,  are  not  always  elab 
orated,  but  they  find  their  way  to  the  hearts  of  his 
hearers. 

The  following  extract  from  his  "Temperance  Talcs 
and  Hearthstone  Keveries,"  presents  at  one  view  the 


388  MODERN   AGITATORS. 

causes  of  his  temperance  predilections,  his  direct  and 
vigorous  style,  and  his  warm  domestic  attachments, 
as  shown  in  the  finest  tribute  to  a  mother  which, we 
have  ever  seen : 

"  Lastly,  we  are  against  it  for  a  mother's  sake.  To  her  we 
ascribe  the  holiest  of  our  temperance  teachings,  and  to  her  his 
tory  that  deep  and  sleepless  hatred  of  the  rum  traffic.  A  tear 
will  come  to  your  eye  as  we  write  of  that  hallowed  name.  She 
sits  before  us  now,  and  we  look  with  a  holy  love  and  a  misty 
eye  upon  the  locks  fast  silvering  with  gray.  That  idol  has 
been  shivered  at  your  own  hearth  side,  but  her  temperance 
teachings  and  fervent  prayers  for  her  wayward  boy  will  not, 
cannot  be  forgotten  by  him. 

"  A  vision  passes  before  us.  There  is  a  home,  in  New  En 
gland,  of  happiness  and  comfort,  and  a  lovely  matron  makes 
one  of  the  links  of  the  family  circle.  Again  she  stands  at  the 
altar,  and  weaves  her  destiny  irrevocably  with  that  of  the  man 
of  her  choice. 

"  Years  pass  happily  and  swiftly  by,  and  the  young  bride  is 
a  happy  mother.  Fresh  blessings  are  added  to  the  first,  but 
in  the  mean  time  a  shadow  has  fallen  upon  that  heart  and  its 
home.  A  tempter  has  glided  into  the  Eden,  and  wreathed  its 
coils  around  the  husband  and  father. 

"  Other  y<jars  go  by,  and  ruin  is  in  that  home.  The  mother 
weeps  and  prays,  and  gathers  more  closely  her  children  around 
her,  as  the  storm  bursts  in  its  fury.  Want,  neglect,  and  abuse 
wring  her  aching  heart.  She  fades  out  like  the  autumn  K-af, 
and  with  a  crushed  heart  sinks  to  the  rest  of  death,  and  is 


V 

THURLOV,'  WEED  EKOWN.  389 

borne  to  a  pauper's  grave;  and  ten  brothers  and  sisters  weep 
over  the  last  home  of  one  who  can  no  longer  shield  them  from 
hunger  or  the  cruel  blow. 

"  An  officer  stops  within  the  abode  of  poverty  and  wretch 
edness,  and  drags  away  all  to  satisfy  an  execution  in  favor  of 
the  rumseller,  who  has  swallowed  the  living  of  that  family  and 
placed  the  mother  in  her  grave.  The  once  high-minded,  but 
now  lost  and  imbruted  father,  sells  the  cow  and  riots  the  pro 
ceeds  out  at  a  drunkery,  and  leaves  the  children  to  the  chari 
ties  of  friends. 

"  A  girl  of  fifteen  summers  toils  in  a  factory  until  her  heart 
and  brain  ache,  and  she  turns  away  to  the  lone  group  at  the 
desolate  hearth,  and  sinks  hungry  to  her  fitful  rest.  The  cold- 
tongued  bell  breaks  in  upon  short  slumbers,  and  drives  the 
slight  and  weary  frame  again  to  its  bitter  task.  Saturday 
night  finds  her  turning  homeward  with  a  feverish  cheek  and  a 
heavy  step.  A  father  calls  at  the  office  of  the  superintendent, 
secures  her  earnings,  and  during  the  Sabbath  squanders  it  all 
at  the  grog-shop  with  his  boon  companions ! 

"  The  factory  girl  once  idolized  that  father.  But  hunger, 
and  poverty,  and  abuse,  have  taught  her  to  hate  him ;  and  as 
he  goes  to  the  groggery  in  the  morning,  an  involuntary  prayer 
goes  up  from  the  child's  heart  that  he  will  no  more  return. 
So  accursing  are  the  effects  of  rum  ! 

"  Long  and  weary  days  pass  away,  and  yet  the  factory  girl 
toils,  and  at  night  gathers  with  her  brothers  and  sisters  grate 
fully  around  a  loaf  of  brown  bread.  There  is  a  jug  of  rum  on 
the  shelf,  and  an  imbruted  father  slumbering  on  the  hearth. 

"  —  A  dark  and  cheerless  pathway  opens  to  the  factory  girl. 


390  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

"  The  worse  than  orphans  are  driven  out  from  the  wretched 
home  and  scattered  here  and  there  as  paupers,  kept  by  the 
town.  One  little  girl,  a  fair-haired,  blue-eyed,  beautiful  crea 
ture  of  three  summers,  is  taken  by  a  family.  Away  in  an 
entry -away,  without  sufficient  clothing,  hungry,  and  no  eye  but 
God's  to  look  kindly  down  upon  her,  she  dies  in  the  winter 
night — dies  cold,  hungry,  and  covered  with  vermin  ! — and  the 
older  sister  could  not  even  weep  upon  the  child-pauper's  grave, 
her  of  the  fair  hair  and  wild  blue  eye. 

"  With  the  brand  which  society  once  cruelly  affixed  upon 
the  brow  of  the  drunkard's  child,  the  factory  girl  entered  into 
the  great  battle  of  life.  Without  education  or  friends,  she 
was  compelled  to  perform  the  most  menial  drudgery.  The 
shadows  that  then  clouded  the  sky  of  her  youth  have  mingled 
with  and  darkened  the  happiness  of  after  years.  Her  brothers 
grew  up,  and  some  of  them  followed  in  the  footsteps  of  their 
father,  and  became  drunkards.  One  was  drowned  near  Al 
bany.  Another  rests  beneath  a  southern  soil.  A  younger 
one,  a  faultless  model  of  manly  beauty,  and  as  noble  in  heart 
as  in  form,  was  taken  by  pirates  at  sea,  and  killed  only  when 
he  towered  the  last  of  his  crew  upon  the  slippery  decks,  and 
his  arms  were  hewn  from  his  body.  Two  others  wre.-tlr. 
now  with  an  appetite  which  dogs  their  footsteps  with  remorse 
less  craving,  and  but  one  lives  the  soul  of  manhood  and  honor. 

"Thus  were  those  linked  to  her  by  the  strongest  ties  thai 
ran  bind  us  to  each  other,  wrenched  away,  and  driven  up  and 
down  the  world.  The  father  lived  on  a  drunkard,  and  at  a 
ripe  old  age  died  a  drunkard  by  the  roadside,  and  not  a  stone 
U'lls  wlu'iv  he 


WKKI>   HKONVX.  oOl 

"Such  are  but  the  outlines  of  a  childhood  and  youth  of  suf 
fering,  humiliation,  and  sorrow.  The  details  are  known  only 
to  the  sufferer  and  to  God.  Memory  rolls  hark  upon  its  bit 
ter  tide  the  history  of  such  scenes,  the  fountain  of  tears  is 
opened  afresh,  and  flows  as  bitterly  as  in  the  past.  Childhood 
without  sunshine  !  The  thought  is  cold  and  dark  indeed. 

"This  hasty  sketching  would  apply  to  unnumbered  thou 
sands  of  such  cases.  As  the  sands  upon  the  shore,  the  blades 
in  the  meadow,  or  the  leaves  in  summertime,  or  the  shirs  that 
glitter  in  the  blue  above,  are  the  histories  of  such  ravages  upon 
the  hopes  and  happiness  of  youth.  They  will  never  be  known 
until  the  record  of  the  angel  shall  be  unrolled  at  the  judgment. 

"  That  factory  girl  —  that  drunkard's  daughter — that  child- 
pauper,  who  toiled  while  a  drunken  father  drank  down  her  wa 
ges — who  went  hungry  for  bread — who  was  deprived  of  soci 
ety  and  education,  and  entered  upon  life's  stern  realities  with 
no  inheritance  but  poverty  and  a  father's  infamy — is  OUR 
MOTHER! 

"  God  !  how  the  veins  knot  and  burn  as  the  tide  whose  every 
drop  is  bitter  with  the  memory  of  her  wrongs  sweeps  to  our 
fingers'  ends.  Our  soul  throbs  firmly  in  our  nib,  until  we 
clutch  involuntarily  for  a  good  blade,  and  wish  the  rum  traffic 
embodied  in  one  demon  form,  that  we  could  go  forth  with 
God's  blessings  and  smite  the  hell-born  monster.  We  look 
upon  her  head,  now  thickly  flecked  with  threads  of  silver,  and 
wi>h  that  the  temperance  reform  could  have  dawned  in  her 
day.  We  look  upon  the  tear  that  steals  down  her  cheek  as 
the  dark  days  of  yore  are  called  up,  and  our  manhood's  cheek 
burns  with  indignation.  She  was  robbed — cruelly,  basely  rob- 


392  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

bed.  She  hungered  for  bread  to  eat !  She  was  threatened 
with  the  vengeance  of  a  rumscllcr  if  she  would  not  toil  in  his 
household  for  the  merest  pittance  !  She  was  shut  out  of  soci 
ety  and  its  privileges  because  she  had  no  home.  She  was 
pointed  at  as  a  drunkard's  child  !  She  toiled  until  her  heart 
ached  with  pain,  and  the  rumseller  clutched  from  the  hand  of 
an  imbruted  father  the  last  penny  of  her  hard  earnings  !  OUR 
MOTHER!  God  of  justice  and  truth!  give  us  but  the  power 
to-day,  and  we  would  strangle  every  hydra  whose  breath  is 
blasting  the  hope  of  others  as  it  blasted  hers. 

"  To  that  mother  we  owe  the  most  of  our  hatred  to  the  rum 
traffic.  We  imbibed  it  from  her  breast,  and  learned  of  her  in 
childhood.  A  father,  too,  his  strong  form  untainted  by  the 
scourge,  has  taught  us  the  same  lesson.  The  memories  of  his 
own  childhood  are  darkened  by  the  thoughts  of  a  drunken 
father.  lie  grappled  alone  with  life's  difficulties,  and  com 
menced  his  career  by  working  to  pay  rumsellers'  executions 
against  his  deceased  father. 

"  Thus  from  the  cradle  have  we  been  educated  to  hate  the 
scourge.  That  hatred  is  mingled  with  every  pilgrim  drop  in 
our  veins.  It  grows  with  our  growth  and  strengthens  with  our 
strength.  In  the  high  noon  of  manhood  we  swear,  by  friends 
on  earth  and  God  in  heaven,  a  lifelong  warfare,  if  need  be, 
against  the  traffic.  There  can  be  no  compromise.  It  is  a  con 
flict  of  extermination,  and  the  blows  will  only  fail  when  the 
battle  of  life  is  ended,  and  our  strong  right  arm  is  mingled 
with  its  mother  dust.  We  will  wear  our  harness  to  the 
grave,  and  make  Ilannibals  of  those  who  come  after  us,  to 
fight  on." 


THURLOW  WEED  BROWN.  393 

As  a  writer  Mr.  Brown  has  no  mean  reputation. 
His  characteristics  as  such  are  similar  to  his  peculiar 
ities  as  a  speaker.  There  is  this  difference  :  his  in 
tense  love  of  nature,  and  of  the  beautiful  everywhere, 
gushes  forth  with  more  ease  and  freedom  in  his  wri 
tings  than  in  his  speeches.  This  is  very  natural,  for 
the  beautiful  is  born  of  quiet. 

Mr.  Brown  was  born  in  Preston,  Chenango  county, 
New  York,  in  the  year  1819.  His  father  was  a  far 
mer  and  carriage  maker.  He  came  originally  from 
Connecticut.  Thurlow's  mother's  maiden  name  was 
Wood.  He  learned  the  carriage-maker's  trade  in  his 
father's  shop,  working  in  it  till  May,  1839,  when, 
with  his  parents,  he  moved  into  Sterling  Cayuga 
county,  Xew  York,  working  on  the  farm  and  in  the 
shop  alternately  until  1817.  lie  had  before  this  sev 
eral  times  ventured  to  address  meetings  in  the  "  rural 
districts"  of  the  county,  and  had  written  articles  for 
the  local  journals,  though  he  had  received  but  a  spare 
common-school  education.  During  the  license  law 
contest  of  1815  he  labored  incessantly  for  the  tri 
umph  of  temperance  at  the  ballot-box.  He  was 
often  carried  by  his  father  from  a  sick-bed  to  attend 
temperance  meetings,  for  the  father  was  full  of  ardor 
which  he  infused  into  his  son.  In  the  latter  part 
of  this  year  Thurlow  wrote  a  series  of  articles  tor  the 
Star  of  Temperance^  a  weekly  journal,  published  at 
Auburn,  which  attracted  much  attention.  Their  elo- 


394  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

qnence  impressed  its  patrons  as  well  as  its  publishers 
deeply.  He  was  at  length  invited  to  occupy  its 
chair  editorial.  And  rough,  rustic,  and  unused  to 
any  but  country  customs,  he  went  to  Auburn.  In 
April,  1848,  the  Star  was  removed  to  Rochester,  and 
he  withdrew  from  it.  When  he  took  hold  of  it,  its 
circulation  was  but  four  hundred ;  when  he  left,  it 
had  risen  to  three  thousand — the  best  compliment 
any  editor  can  receive.  In  January,  1849,  he  issued 
the  first  number  of  the  Cayuga  Chief,  of  which  he  is 
an  editor  now.  lie  started  with  a  capital  of  seven 
dollars,  and  a  circulation  of  one  hundred  and  seventy ! 
Under  his  editorship  and  management  it  has  risen  to 
a  circulation  of  three  thousand  copies.  His  mechan 
ical  genius  is  worth  noting,  and  as  he  had  no  money 
to  commence  his  enterprise  with,  he  actually  made, 
with  his  own  hands,  much  of  the  furniture  of  his  of 
fice.  He  worked  on  bravely,  industriously,  and  elo 
quently.  Tin's  year  he  married  a  woman  worthy  of 
himself,  and  to  whom  he  is  ardently  attached.  Home 
is  his  peculiar  element ;  and  his  "  Hearthstone  Rev 
eries"  give  unmistakable  evidence  that  his  chief  at 
traction,  the  center  of  his  happiness,  is  there.  Long 
may  he  live  to  battle  manfully  in  the  cause  to  which 
he  is  so  earnestly  devoted. 

The  following,  on  the  death  of  his  beautiful  boy, 
the  lovely  Willie,  is  one  of  the  most  sweetly  pathetic 
things  in  our  language  : 


THURLOW  WEED  BROWN. 
"A  BROKEN*  HOME." 


*A  short  time  since,  we  left  th.-  tln-i-Mi^l  i  •!<>]  of  our  hearth 
circle  in  the  full  promise  of  health  and  life,  and  returned  but 
to  see  him  die  !  Our  home  is  desolate,  tor  its  purest  lisht  has 
fid  eel  out.  WILLIE  is  dead  ! 

O  God,  how  we  loved  the  boy  !  lie  was  a  child  of  more 
than  rare  promise  —  a  brave,  beautiful,  noble-hearted  being 
and  all  manhood  in  every  pulse.  His  mind  was  almost 
masculine,  and  he  wrestled  with  death  with  the  calm  patience 
and  judgment  of  maturer  years. 

Would  that  in  the  spring-time  he  had  gone  to  his  long  night- 
rest  of  death,  when  the  flower,  and  leaf,  and  tiny  blade  were 
bursting  out  from  their  earth-sleep  to  clothe  the  fields  in 
beauty.  But  it  matters  not.  He  wandered  not  alone  through 
the  dark  valley,  "for  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  The 
warm  sunbeam  and  raindrop  of  spring-time  will  deck  the 
resting-place  of  the  little  sleeper  with  smiles.  Little  will 
he  heed,  however,  either  sunbeam  or  cloud  on  earth,  for  there 
is  no  winter  shadow  in  the  eternal  summor->ky  of  bliss. 

Blessed  hope,  that  death  is  not  an  "eternal  sleep!"  The 
beautiful  tenement  of  a  soul  of  two  summers  will  mingle 
with  its  pillow  of  earth  ;  but  in  the  silence  of  the  night-time 
we  shall  listen  to  the  tripping  of  little  feet,  and  the  low  whis 
pering  of  a  silvery  voice  ;  to  the  sweet  rustling  of  two  little 
angel-wings,  and  feel  the  pure  touch  of  a  tiny  palm  upon  the 
feverish  cheek.  One  of  the  strongest  links  of  earth  has  been 
broken  but  to  bind  us  the  closer  to  heaven.  God's  will  be 
done  ! 

The  little  playthings  are  all  put  away.     A  deep  tide  of 


396  MODERN    AGITATORS. 

bright  hopes  has  been  roll-1  bar!;  in  ;i  bitter  ff  >;>:]  irion  the 
heart.  Crushed  and  broken,  we  bow  to  the  storm  that  has 
swept  our  earth,  and  thank  God  that  there  is  a  better  world 
than  this  for  the  child. 

— WILLIE  !    our    own   loved,  beautiful,  gentle  boy,  good 
night  ! 


